Ward
by cathypauline
Summary: Sequel to "Seekers", found in Books / Jedi Apprentice
1. Chapter 1

"How is he?" Commander Will Riker asked Dr. Beverly Crusher, his eyes on the barely adolescent boy lying limp on a Sick Bay bed.

Only three days before, Enterprise had been cruising in relatively known space, near a system just outside a Federation colony, albeit distant from home. Unfortunately for them, theirs wasn't the only starship out exploring that sector of the galaxy: they had crossed paths - and fire - with a pair of suddenly decloaked Romulan warships as well. A furious fight - and flight - had resulted in their abrupt discovery of a previously uncharted wormhole. Their options rapidly decreasing to exit or face almost certain capture or annihilation, they had chosen to brave the unknown and probably unstable wormhole. Now they were lost: drifting in a realm of unfamiliar constellations and star systems, out of range of any Federation timebase beacons or subspace radio relays. The computers had been working for days to calculate their position by finding a recognizable pulsar or other unique space or subspace phenomena without success; they had to face the possibility that the surest way home may be the route they had taken to get here: waiting Romulan ambush notwithstanding.

Enterprise was in sore shape. Warp nacelles and shields had taken a beating: she would need parts and time for repairs before they could go anywhere at better than impulse speed. Luckily they had found an inhabited - and technologically advanced - system less than a light-week from the wormhole exit. It was a system well worth exploring: if they could only get home to tell about it. Tiny craft zipping in from the outskirts of the system gave evidence that the inhabitants shared some commerce with other worlds. The population, however, was small and scattered, poor and largely ignorant; the environment mostly hot and dry: an arid desert. The largest concentration of inhabitants clustered in a sprawling city built on an oasis far from the equator.

Will, Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge, and Counselor Deanna Troi had been first to beam down to the surface, to the outskirts of that city, in search of materials. The inhabitants of the planet, they had found, were apparently human, with some interesting variants on skin color: some shaded almost to silver. Most of them were human, anyway: the main city also housed a fascinating variety of non-human sentients, none of which the xenobiologists on board could identify from the snapshot recordings brought back by the away team. Dr. Feran-Smith was nearly hopping out of his skin in his eagerness for further recordings, tissue samples - anything they could get for him, since he was restricted from a visit to the planet itself while the ship operated on perpetual yellow alert.

The planet, Lansar, harbored a rough, harsh people, on the whole. Most of the city was filled with derelict-looking buildings, outdoor markets, dirt streets. But at the center, isolated from the worn and tumbled outskirts by its own gardens and spring-fed landscape, stood a sparkling complex of modern buildings: a resort, a playhouse for the rich, called Starways. Gambling and fights and contests were prevalent everywhere they walked, but the Starways resort was the hub: arenas, betting houses, large viewing screens, opulent housing: all the trappings of wealth, easily gained and even more easily lost, on conspicuous display. Beings richly dressed walked the gardens, while those in modest or even ragged attire walked the bare roads that led to the many arena and betting-house gates.

Slaves, on the other hand, walked everywhere.

These were mostly human, though none of them silver-skinned. They wore little: a wrap of leather or colorful cloth. A collar, always. Sometimes a leading chain, held by the owner. But never shoes or any other footwear. In the interest of their mission and in light of the Prime Directive the three Federation officers tried to ignore the sad-looking slaves: but the sight of the rights of sentients so flagrantly flouted disturbed them all, especially empathic Deanna.

Inquiries of the locals produced unfriendly stares as often as not. But after a string of unsuccessful visits to local junk shops and booths, they were finally given a lead to a trader in minerals and materials. He lived in an upper-level apartment within the most opulent of the resorts: called, ostentatiously, The Palace. His name given, simply, as: Xanatos.

They had to pass through several levels of security in order to secure a meeting with the man. He insisted on meeting with them in person, once he had heard of their request. Will got the distinct feeling on greeting Xanatos by vidphone that the man had been gathering information on their activities and inquiries for several hours: that he had 'allowed' them to find him. Though he reminded himself that this was normal behavior for a powerful businessman, Will could not shake that first impression: that Xanatos was wily, ruthless, and extremely dangerous.

The man greeted them in his own quarters, and served them an elegant and sumptuous meal from his table. He was charming and personable. But Will found that his second impression did nothing to dispel the first: if anything, his distrust grew. However, Xanatos claimed he could supply them with the materials they needed, and so Will held his peace.

The boy, though: the sight of him nearly broke Will's resolve. A slave boy: young, perhaps fourteen. Skin fair, tanned; hair a ruddy brown: both flecked shimmering gold. He stood and walked with weary resignation, as one long past the possibility of hope. But his eyes...

Will found himself studying the boy covertly from his first glimpse of those deep blue eyes: they showed intelligence, wit, and a fierce resolve at odds with his demeanor. The boy was acting his hopelessness, at least in part. But Will found it difficult to catch the boy's gaze a second time: he kept his eyes downcast, like others of his caste they'd seen, and Will was loath to risk visiting the master's wrath on the child by pushing for his attention. And so he and his shipmates took their leave of Xanatos, their agreement sealed with a deposit of electrum and platinum chips from the Enterprise stores, with a promise that the deal would be concluded three days hence, again in Xanatos' quarters.

For all those three days Will could not keep the slave boy from his mind.

On the third day he, Deanna and Geordi returned to the Palace to collect the materials they had bought: and found its halls a battleground. Silver-skinned Mozelle, as they called themselves, and human Lansarites fought the red-clad Palace guards: their short, powerful laser weapons scarring the gilded doors and artwork; bodies falling on both sides. Xanatos' apartment was at the center of the fighting, so Will contacted the shuttlepod orbiting above, waiting, and asked that they be beamed to an empty room in Xanatos' quarters. In moments they found themselves in the man's study, the materials they'd ordered sitting crated in a tidy stack by the door. Geordi was all for leaving then. Will had him take the supplies back to Enterprise. He found he could not leave without knowing what had happened to the slave boy. Deanna, of like mind, joined him.

They hadn't far to look. The young slave lay on the wide bed in Xanatos' own room, wrapped in a cloak of dark wool over the leather halter and loin wrap he wore. He was unconscious, but still Deanna sensed in him incredible mental distress. Will didn't hesitate. When he called for Transport, he ordered they take the boy as well.

Now the child lay on a Sick Bay bed, nearly obscured by a biobed clamshell, under Dr. Crusher's care, still unconscious.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard entered the ward, accompanied by Deanna Troi. He nodded to Will, then turned to Beverly. "How is the boy?" Picard asked, echoing Will's question.

"Physically," Dr. Crusher answered them both, "he is for the most part in good condition. In fact his physical conditioning is remarkable: he has the build and muscle tone of an athlete. He is, as he appears, human: though there are some genetic divergences his DNA is well within our species' definition."

"Have you sent his DNA scan to xenobiology?" asked the captain. "They've been bothering me for samples since the away team reported a human settlement here."

"Already done," the doctor answered. "They've been pestering me, too, since Will and Deanna brought the boy back with them. Anyway, he's thirteen years old, perhaps fourteen. His back is scarred, I'd say he's been beaten multiple times in the past weeks, but the bruises and lacerations there are healing, as are lacerations from the manacles on his wrists. Nothing abnormal there, really, given his status on the planet." Beverly paused, grimacing. "His internal chemistry, on the other hand, is quite extraordinary: an interplay of enzymes and cellular structures I've never seen before. I can't even guess at their functions. Of most concern to me now is that half the cells in his body show evidence of some sort of trauma, consistent in some ways with a series of mild, long-duration electrical shocks. None of the damage is localized, it's generally distributed."

"He's been tortured with electroshock?" Will asked.

"Possibly," Dr. Crusher answered, "though some of his symptoms are like nothing I've ever seen, and I see no burns that I would associate with electrocution. I've designed a program to repair the damage; with your permission, Captain, I'll begin that program now..."

"I consulted with the doctor earlier;" Deanna added. "We agree that the system-wide damage - possibly torture - is the most likely source of the mental and emotional distress I still sense in the boy."

"Begin your protocol, Doctor." Picard nodded. "I see no reason to withhold treatment, if it's your judgement that his health is in any way compromised."

Dr. Crusher went immediately to the boy's side, and busied herself entering commands on the biobed over his chest. The other three officers gathered at a safe distance so as not to interfere with her work; but near enough to include her in their conversation.

"I understand your decision to rescue this boy," the captain told Will and Deanna, "but his presence here, in direct violation of the Prime Directive, presents us with a challenge I do not know how to resolve."

"Captain, I could not in good conscience leave an unconscious child in the middle of a battle zone -"

"I told you, Number One, I understand: you needn't defend your actions to me." Picard paused, and all present reflected on the reference implicit in his emphasis: Starfleet would most certainly make an inquest into Will's decision.

No need to borrow trouble, Will told himself. Starfleet isn't here now, and I wouldn't have decided differently even if an admiral been standing in the room with me.

"The issue is not what you should or should not have done," the Captain continued, "but what we are going to do with the boy now. Is there any way to return him to his family? Can we be assured of his safety if we repatriate him? For by removing him from an untenable situation, we have taken on responsibility for his welfare."

"We could discuss the situation with the child when he wakes," Deanna suggested dryly.

Picard chuckled. "Yes, that would seem to be the simplest solution." He turned serious. "But what if he has no family, if he has no connections, nowhere to go? What then?"

Who would take care of him? Will wondered. He mulled the germ of an idea, uncertain, and was uncomfortable to find that Deanna was watching him. He turned away to face Beverly, who had finished with the biobed, and was grateful when she addressed them generally:

"He's waking." The doctor commanded the biobed to stow itself, and put a hand on the boy's forehead. His breathing slowly deepened; he stirred, then grew still, tense. He opened his eyes: blue eyes took in the room, not focusing on any person; then narrowed in apparent pain. The boy moved his lips as though to speak, but no sound came from him. He squeezed shut his eyes and rolled to his side, facing away from them, curled in on himself. Beverly put one hand on his bare arm, the other on his head. "It's all right," she cajoled him. "You're safe. No one will hurt you here."

Deanna moved to the bedside with a look to Will that he should follow; she crouched by the boy's face, Will standing behind her. "I'm Counselor Troi," she said softly. "Will Riker and Geordi LaForge and I first saw you when we had a business dinner with Xanatos. You were serving table. Do you remember?" Deanna waited for a response. When the boy failed to answer, she continued, "we returned to Xanatos' apartment a few hours ago to collect the materials we'd ordered, but there was a battle going on in the Palace. We found you alone and unconscious in the middle of it. It didn't seem safe or right to leave you, so we took you with us." At this, the boy slowly opened his eyes, focusing on Deanna. She continued, "we can take you home from here. Can we take you to your parents?"

Again the boy opened his lips as if to speak, then stopped. He sat up in the bed, sliding back towards the wall, and looked warily around at the four adults.

"What's your name?" Will asked.

Deanna gave him a sharp look, then introduced the others. "This is Commander Riker, Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher. You're aboard Enterprise, our ship." The boy quietly attended; then he returned his gaze to Deanna. With one hand he touched his neck, looking to Deanna expectantly.

"The collar is missing," Will noted, wondering how he had failed to notice before. All slaves in the city planetside had worn collars. What did it mean that this slave's collar was gone?

The boy nodded; then he touched his neck again, and then his lips.

"You can't speak?" Deanna asked. She looked questioningly at Beverly, who shrugged and pulled a medical tricorder from her pocket; activating it, she moved it in a slow scan of the boy's head and neck. "Do you mean that you physically can't, or that you shouldn't, that you're forbidden to?"

"You can speak here," Will said, more sharply than he had intended. "We don't believe it's right to keep slaves, and we certainly don't believe in forbidding sentients to speak."

The boy looked up at him, shyly. A faint smile touched his lips, then faded.

Dr. Crusher drew breath. "There's a foreign implant in his neck, apparently attached somehow to some of the neural pathways in his brain. I hadn't found it before; I didn't do an internal scan for foreign objects..."

"Is it stopping the boy speaking, doctor?" the captain asked.

"It could be. I'd have to run more tests to be certain. Do you know what it is?" Beverly asked the boy. He nodded. "Is it keeping you from speaking? Should I remove it?" He nodded to both questions, looking hopefully up at her at the last. She turned to the captain. "I'll need to consult with Geordi and Data, technical devices are their expertise."

"I'll apprise them of the situation." Picard moved toward the door before tapping his communicator.

"Could we get the boy some clothes in the meantime?" Deanna asked, seeing him wrap his arms around himself.

"Go ahead, it will take me some time to set up the necessary protocols," the doctor answered. "I've stored his physical profile under 'boy Riker-Troi'". Will grinned at her teasing look.

"Come on." Counselor Troi reached out one hand to the boy, who pushed himself off the bed, looking questioningly at Beverly and Will. "Don't mind them, the doctor is just having some fun at my and Will's expense. How are you feeling? Anywhere that hurts?" The boy shook his head no.

"We can't call him 'boy'," Will complained. "Can you write?" he asked the boy. The child nodded, then shrugged uncertainly. "You replicate him some clothes," Will told Deanna. "I'll get some writing materials." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder to steer him to the replicator bank in an alcove behind the main infirmary. The boy's eyes widened, taking in the medical equipment and unfamiliar surroundings. His bare feet padded silently on the metal deck. "How old are you? Fourteen? Thirteen?" The boy nodded.

Reaching the replicator, Will programmed in an order for paper and pencils. "Thirteen. Dr. Crusher has a son Wesley who's not much older than you. I think you'd like him. Perhaps he could keep you company while we're trying to figure out how to get you home." The child smiled softly up at him; then he watched, fascinated, as a writing pad and colored pencils shimmered into existence on the replicator tray. Will found that he enjoyed watching the boy's obvious interest in the technology of Enterprise. He showed no fear of the ship's strangeness; the intensity of his focus and observation hinted at a quick and lively intelligence. Will indicated Beverly's office. "The doctor won't mind us using her desk," he said.

Deanna joined them then, with a neatly folded stack of clothing. "Why don't you dress, first?" she suggested. He looked uncertainly at the clothes she carried, then touched the armband on his left biceps. "Can you get that off yourself?" she asked, looking at the complicated network of metal bands, leather straps, and buckles he wore. He shook his head no.

"I'll help," Will volunteered. "We'll cut it off if we have to. If that's okay?" The boy nodded quickly.

Will found a small laser cutter in one of the medical equipment drawers, and tested it on an armband. With care, he found, he could slice the metal without hurting the boy. He drew the child into the Sick Bay head, and settled him onto a stool by the shower. The boy sat quietly, watching without fear as Will worked. Will stole glances at his face, wondering at the child's steadiness. "Have you been a slave long?" he asked, then continued at the boy's negative shake of the head, "a year? More? Less? Less, then. Your parents must be worried about you." The boy's expression creased; pained, uncertain. He shrugged. Meaning what? Will wondered. He finished cutting the last band, then, and deactivated the tool, putting it in his pocket. "You can take a shower if you like. Here -" he showed him how to operate the water controls and get soap from the dispenser. "I'll get your new clothes from Deanna. Counselor Troi, that is." The boy flashed him a faint, knowing smile before he stepped into the shower cubicle.

Deanna was talking with Beverly and the captain at the surgical station when he left the boy. She handed Will the stack of clothing she still carried. Data and Geordi were there as well, hunched over a screen readout.

"It looks like some sort of carbon-based microfibers extending from the main device into his brain stem," said Geordi. "Removing them may be difficult."

"They may spontaneously decompose if we deactivate or remove the main device," Data suggested. "That kind of structure should not be stable in the long term without a power source to reinforce the molecular matrix."

"Maybe. I'd like a better look; we'll need to do a more thorough scan." Geordi looked up in Will's direction, his expression thoughtful, thoroughly absorbed by this new technical puzzle.

"He's in the shower," Will told them. "He'll be out in a few minutes." Geordi nodded, then he and Data bent back over the screen, continuing to trade hypotheses, consulting with Beverly as well.

Picard drew Deanna and Will aside. "How is he, emotionally?" he asked Deanna.

She shook her head slowly. "He seems to be taking the strangeness of being here remarkably well. Except for those first few minutes on waking, he's shown no distress at all."

"Seems?" asked Picard.

"I can't read him," she admitted. "His mind is opaque to me."

"Isn't that unusual?" Will asked.

Deanna nodded. "Some species are naturally resistant to mind probes, but not humans." She looked at Will. "I couldn't read him when we saw him the first time, either; but then, I wasn't really trying to at the time. I was more focused on Xanatos. Whom I also could not read." She looked back to the captain. "I have no idea how it could be. It does happen sometimes."

"But both of them..."

"Though not other humans we saw on the planet: I could sense their emotions without difficulty."

The captain stood thoughtfully silent for a moment. "Curious. Well, keep your senses open; inform me of any change. Does either of you mind if I leave him in your charge for now?"

"No, Captain," Will answered.

"Not at all," Deanna echoed.

"Carry on, then." Picard left them.

The clothes Deanna had chosen for the boy were shaded predominantly blue, with a bright blue pullover shirt, dark pants, and accent stripes in blue and black on the short gray jacket. Will helped him to figure out the fastenings and dress. Most of the gold flecks had washed from his skin in the shower, Will noted; but his hair still sparkled faintly.

Will and Deanna brought the boy and the writing materials to Beverly's office, saying it was long enough they'd gone without knowing his name. The boy settled into Beverly's chair, the drawing tablet open on the desk in front of him. He pulled a mechanical pencil from the box - green - and Will showed him how to push some of the lead out of the tip. He held the pencil in his right hand, with the ease of long practice, and put the tip to paper. And stopped. He frowned, and stared at the pencil, as if willing it to write of its own. Then he dropped the pencil and leaned back in the chair, shoulders slumped, a look of misery on his face.

"You can't write, either," Deanna guessed. The boy nodded. "But you know how." He nodded again.

Will hated to see him so distressed. "It's all right," he said, lightly touching the boy's shoulder. "Dr. Crusher will take that device out of your neck, now, and you'll be fine." The boy tried to smile at him in response, his lips curling half-heartedly into a look that was almost a grimace. Will found himself hoping very much that he had spoken correctly, that removing the implant would be easy - and yet he was strangely certain that it would not be a simple operation at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Will and Deanna sat talking quietly in the waiting area attached to the Sick Bay surgery. The boy was unconscious, anesthetized; he lay face down and stripped to the waist on the surgical table while Dr. Crusher, Geordi and Data worked on removing the strange device.

"What were you thinking when the captain was talking about taking responsibility for the boy?" Deanna asked without preamble.

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Commander," she remonstrated.

Will sighed. "All right, so I do know, I'm just uncertain, and I'm not sure I want to talk about it."

"You're thinking about fostering him yourself."

Will frowned at her. "Are you sure you're just an empath?"

She gave him an enigmatic smile. "I confess to some surprise. I thought the suggestion of parenthood was the surest way to get you to run screaming for the door. Other than talk of marriage, of course."

"Ha ha. Very funny. Since you're determined to butt in where I've told you not to -"

"You said you weren't sure you wanted to talk. I only made the decision for you."

He snorted. Then, feeling suddenly self-conscious, he focused on his hands. "I feel responsible for him; after all, I had him brought here. I'm not certain I'd want to keep him long-term. But I figured, at least I could keep him for now, while we're trying to find his family. And if the longer term comes up, well -"

"Raising a child is a lot of responsibility, Will. It would change your life significantly. No more last-minute going out for drinks or poker -"

"He's not an infant, Deanna. He's almost Wesley's age."

"Even so -"

"Yes, even so. At the least, I'd need to be around regularly. For dinner, recreation... I don't know, Deanna. I just don't know. Surely I don't need to decide all at once? I don't even know his name, yet."

She smiled at him, and leaned back in her seat, watching him. "He likes you."

"He likes you, too. And so do I."

Deanna raised her eyebrows at that, but Will wasn't about to take the bait. Dear as she was to him, Will wasn't prepared to talk about their relationship. Not now, anyway. Not here. Not yet.

Beverly appeared at the door, looking frustrated.

"You couldn't remove it," Deanna stated flatly.

"We tried. But every time we touched it, it sent massive feedback to his brain. I was afraid it would damage him, or even kill him."

"Is he -" Will began anxiously.

"He's all right. I want to keep him here in Sick Bay for a while longer, keep him under observation, though I don't think there will be any lasting effects. Data and Geordi are going to keep looking for ways to deactivate the device, to get around its triggers, whenever they have time from directing the repairs."

"Time which will be hard to come by."

"We're all doing the best we can. In the meantime..."

"In the meantime we can be looking for the boy's family," said Deanna.

"And looking for clues to the device's operation planetside," Will added.

Beverly nodded. "He'll be waking in a few minutes; will you help me explain to him?"

"Of course we will," Deanna answered, as the two of them stood to join her.

"I thought I would call Wesley up here once the boy wakes;" Beverly continued, "if you think that would be appropriate, Counselor? I thought the company of a boy his own age might comfort him."

"I think that's an excellent idea."

"If you think the boy will be staying with us a few days, we could keep him in our quarters, if Wes is willing."

"I imagine he will be with us at least that long, but actually Will was considering hosting him."

"Really, Commander?" Dr. Crusher's smile was both surprised and teasing.

"Yes, really. Though if you think it would be better for him to stay with Wes -"

"We could give him the choice," Deanna answered.

"Sure, that's a good idea," Will agreed, feeling strangely both relieved and disappointed.

The boy had been moved to a regular ward bed; he was just waking when they reached his bedside. He put a hand to his neck and blinked slowly, breathing deeply. Then he looked up at the doctor questioningly.

"I'm afraid it doesn't want to be removed."

The boy sighed and looked morose.

"But you're not to worry," Beverly continued. "We're still working on it."

Geordi and Data joined them, then, from where they had been talking over a console at the back of the room.

"That's right," Geordi told him. "We have a lot more information now than when we started. It's only a matter of time before we figure it out." Geordi touched the boy lightly on the shoulder, who looked up at him hopefully. "Commander Data and I have never yet been presented with a technical puzzle we couldn't solve."

Data tilted his head to one side. "Actually, if you count -"

"Data."

The android looked at Geordi, who was staring at him meaningfully; then seemed to reconsider his statement. "It is true that Chief LaForge and I, together with help from Enterprise's Engineering crew, have been remarkably successful at solving all manner of technical and scientific challenges." The boy smiled softly, amused with the android's clumsy attempt at comforting words.

"You're in very good hands," Will put in, seating himself on the bed at the boy's side. "But we still need a name for you."

Data spoke up. "John Doe is the customary -"

"No, Data," the others said in chorus.

"How about 'Ben'?" Will suggested.

"As in Ben Hur, the story of the prisoner who won his freedom? As in -"

"As in I happen to like that name."

"Oh." Data almost looked disappointed.

Looking up at Data, Will was surprised to feel a light touch on his hand. He looked down, into deep blue eyes looking up at him. The boy nodded.

Will smiled at him. "Ben it is, then."

A few hours later, after arranging a third away team visit with ops but before his duty shift on the bridge was set to begin, Will looked in on the boy in Sick Bay. He was again dressed, sitting at a table at the edge of the ward - out of the way of the medical staff - with Wesley Crusher for company. Will watched the two boys, unobtrusively from the doorway. Together they crouched over Wesley's padd, while Wes explained some of its functions.

"It talks to the main computer core, see; so any time you want you can look up our heading and velocity, like this - and if you had clearance, like one of the officers, you could even steer the ship from here. Or raise the shields, or fire the phasers - though they don't do that, normally, from a padd; they do it from the bridge. It's just that they could, if they had to, in an emergency, see?"

Wes looked up at Ben's face, long enough to catch his smile of encouragement, then both boys bent over the padd again. "We're not really moving now, see? Only .05c, that's five percent of the speed of light, just enough to keep us in about the same relative position as the inhabited planet in this system. We'd go a lot faster if our warp drive was working." Wes looked up at Ben again. "Do you like games?"

Ben shrugged. From her office Will saw Beverly going to join the two boys; he left the doorway to join them as well.

"There's some simple games you can play on a padd; but I have loads more at our quarters. If mom says you're clear to leave Sick Bay, maybe you can come stay with us?"

"He's certainly welcome to," said Beverly, "but the question of where he's going to stay hasn't been decided yet. For one thing, we don't know how long he'll be with us."

Will asked, "Ben, do you have a home and family to go to?"

Ben nodded.

"I don't know how long it will take to get you home," the doctor continued. "You're welcome to stay with Wesley and I, or if you prefer, Commander Riker has offered to take care of you. Either way, it's not a large ship."

Will felt mild anxiety as to how Ben would answer; found himself hoping for Ben's approval, and reproved himself. If Ben preferred to stay with his new friend, who could blame him? The boy's feelings were more important than his own. Then he caught Ben's eye, and knew his own feelings didn't matter. Ben was looking at him with worry in his young eyes, uncertainty, as though asking, do you really want a kid underfoot?

Will smiled back at him, a half-mischievous, encouraging grin.

"Lucky," Wes murmured. Ben flashed him a soft smile. Then he turned back to Will and shyly touched his hand, looking up and holding his gaze.

"Sure you want to put up with a cranky old bachelor like me?"

Ben laughed silently, then nodded, once, firmly.

"That's settled then," Beverly said. "And since I see no reason to keep you here any longer, Will can take you to your room."

"His room hasn't been configured yet," Will laughed. "But that will only take a few hours. In the meantime, I have just enough time to show you my quarters before I'm due on the bridge."

"Mom's off duty beta shift," said Wes. "Come visit with me? Is that okay, Mom?" Wes asked anxiously, turning to his mother.

"That's fine," she said, "if he isn't tired of me yet." She smiled at Ben's silent chuckle. "We'll feed him," she continued, turning to Will.

Will nodded, then turned back to the two boys. "All right, come on then, hop! There's just enough time for you to see my digs before I have to get to work. You, too, Wes; then you can take him with you after I abandon him. It's not too late to change your mind, kid!"

"Be home by dinner time, Wes," Beverly called out as the two boys scooted out of the room, Will marching behind in high spirits.


	3. Chapter 3

Obi-Wan Kenobi walked beside Wesley Crusher, his mind only half-occupied by the young teen's cheerful patter. Wes seemed determined to give him a whirlwind tour of the entire ship - which Obi-Wan could already sense was enormous, perhaps as big as a Republic Dreadnought - in the time before dinner; at the moment they were touring the mineral collection. Wes steered Obi-Wan to his favorite specimens, telling stories about when and where and how they had been found. Obi-Wan smiled and nodded politely whenever the boy looked his way.

Wes's stories were interesting to him, to be fair - only the young Jedi had a great deal on his mind. For one thing, Obi-Wan had no idea where these people had come from; as far as he knew they and their technology were completely unknown within the Republic. Wes had explained that the ship had come through what he called a 'wormhole' - as far as Obi-Wan could tell, that was their name for a naturally occurring passage through hyperspace - so they could have come from just about anywhere in the galaxy. But then, Wes had also told him that Enterprise, when its 'warp' drives were not damaged, could travel at well over a thousand times the speed of light through real space. If that was true, then why had they not encountered the Republic or at least the Corporate Sector before this?

Obi-Wan put out his hand to take a small crystal that Wesley held out to him. The crystal glowed with a soft pink light when it touched his skin.

"Data brought that one back from an uninhabited planet," Wes explained to him. "The mineralogists went crazy trying to figure out how it phosphoresces. They still don't know."

Obi-Wan glanced at Wes in puzzlement, then turned his attention to the crystal. With the tiniest tendril of the Force, he brushed the crystal's structure. He blinked in surprise. He felt loneliness - was it an echoing of his own feelings back to him? Or - he brushed it again, this time feeling a soft surprise, then welcoming. The crystal glowed brighter, shading to orange, then gold.

"Hey - it's never done that before!" Wes said.

Some strange, minute creature lived within, or as part of, this crystal's structure: Obi-Wan was certain of it. He looked for the shelf Wes had taken it from, then looked to Wes, and mimed taking a crystal from a drawer.

"Is there another? Yes - there are at least two samples -" and Wes pulled open the tiny drawer beneath the crystal's display shelf. Inside was one more crystal, dark and still on a cushion of foam. Obi-Wan took the crystal into his hand, nestling it beside the first. He smiled. The crystals flared once, joyously, then went still. He placed them together on the display shelf. If they couldn't be home, at least they could be together.

Wes studied him, curiosity evident in his expression. "I sure wish you could talk," he said. Obi-Wan just grimaced. He wished he could talk, too; wished he could explain who and what he was, and how these people could get him home. Wished he could ask questions, like 'what happened to Qui-Gon?' and 'is Xanatos dead?' Those thoughts worried him, loomed in his mind behind the question of who these people were who had taken him in. If they had found him alone - surely Qui-Gon would never have left him, unguarded and alone, helpless, unless - Obi-Wan refused to think that his master could be dead. He couldn't be dead. But Xanatos - Qui-Gon might have left him, thinking he was safe, to chase Xanatos.

So what had gone wrong?

"I'm sorry, Ben, I didn't mean to make you upset." Wes looked at him in concern. Obi-Wan tried to smile reassuringly, and failed. His hands were clenched tight in fists; with a release of his breath the young Jedi let the tension drain from his body; he nodded and touched Wesley's hand to let him know he was okay, then glanced quickly away as misery tightened his throat, searching the display shelves for something to distract him. These people were so kind; but all he wanted now was to go home, to the peace of the Temple, and his friends and teachers, and his master... But more than that, he knew - he could feel it with the certainty of the Force - that as long as he remained on Enterprise, he and everyone on this ship was in terrible danger. For Xanatos was not dead, and he was looking for Obi-Wan, and for the strange offworlders who had made a stranger deal with him for outlandish starship parts.

A shelf containing a single clear, slightly irregular crystal caught Obi-Wan's eye. He caught his breath, and moved closer. Could it be -?

"I'm not sure where we got that. It looks almost like quartz, but the molecular structure is decidedly different, and the fracture face is just slightly off..."

Obi-Wan touched the crystal with one finger, reverently, and felt a mild surge in the Force. A single Adegan crystal. With his other hand he pulled open the drawer below. Sure enough, five more crystals were nestled within. Hope stirred in him. He opened himself to the Force, letting the unique signatures of the crystals touch him, and chose two that especially resonated with him. Then he glanced up at Wesley, wondering how to communicate his need.

"You want those, hunh?" Wes shrugged, evidently frustrated that he couldn't ask why. "Easy enough - we can replicate them. They won't be perfect copies - we could only get that with the transporter. But they'll be so good you won't be able to tell the difference except with an electron microscope." He talked as he led Obi-Wan to a replicator set into the wall by the door; then took the crystals from his hand and placed them on one side of the tray. Obi-Wan watched carefully as Wes programmed the settings: he wanted to know how to do this himself.

A duplicate pair of crystals shimmered into existence beside the first pair. Unabashedly fascinated, Obi-Wan watched, his eyes wide. Somehow he had to get Wes to explain how the replicators functioned.

Wesley handed Obi-Wan the new pair. "I challenge you to tell the difference," he said, grinning.

Obi-Wan took the pair in one hand, then picked up the originals in the other. To his sight, there was no difference; even the tiniest flaws and scratches were duplicated. But in the Force - the new crystals felt lesser somehow; distorted. Obi-Wan let Wes return the original crystals to the drawer. There would be time enough, later, to retrieve them - that is, if he could find or construct the rest of the components he needed before Xanatos came: components for a new lightsaber.

-

Will stepped into Dr. Crusher's quarters at her welcoming "Come." She looked up from her desk. A text readout filled her monitor. "They're in Wesley's room," she told him. "I've hardly seen them except for dinner. Which your young charge ate with gusto, I might add. I think he surpassed even Wesley's record for appetite."

"He was hungry," said Will, amused.

"Well, given the musculature on that boy, it's not terribly surprising. Right now I think they're messing with Wesley's parts collection. Wes appears to have found a kindred spirit in engineering interest. The two of them keep running in here to pull random oddities from the replicator. I don't know what they're building, but they've been at it for hours."

Will looked thoughtful. "Maybe Ben would like to visit with Geordi."

"They've been working overtime on the repairs in Engineering, but it wouldn't hurt to ask." The doctor leaned back in her chair. "Go ahead and knock on the door, I'm sure the boys would like to show off their creations, whatever they are."

His curiosity piqued, Will tapped on Wesley's door. He wondered how much engineering know-how Ben had, and where he had learned it. So much about the boy was a mystery.

"Come in!" Wes called.

The two boys were seated on the floor, a jumble of bits and wires, sensors and power couplings scattered around them. Wes was tooling with a small mobile creature; a project Will recognized, as Wes had been working on it for at least the past two months. In Ben's lap was a smaller set of parts: a metallic cylinder, two hands long, split in half lengthwise; a jumble of wires and parts Will did not recognize, and something that looked vaguely like a power source, which Ben was probing with a pair of narrow pliers.

"What an incredible mess," Will laughed.

"Hi, Commander," Wesley greeted him. "We've been busy. I showed Ben how to use the replicator for hardware. He's really good with circuits and tools." Wes looked like he'd found heaven, and no wonder: not only were there few kids close to his age on board Enterprise, he had yet to find one that shared his passion for tinkering. He looked over at Ben, who flashed him a quick smile, then returned to his absorption. Definitely a common interest there.

Will crouched on the floor by the two boys. "This is your mobile robot, isn't it Wes? How's it coming?"

"I decided to turn it into a dinosaur. I've been studying the files on reconstructed raptor locomotion, and I think I can duplicate their slow walk and their run. But it's not moving now. Something shorted in the control circuit." Wes sounded disgusted.

"I'm sure you'll get it fixed. What's Ben working on?" Will asked, looking over at the younger boy.

"I don't know, really. Once I showed him how to get parts out of the hardware memory, he took off with... whatever it is. Beats me what it's all for. He seems to know just what he's doing, though."

Will leaned over to examine the construction on the floor in front of Ben. A large number of wires were already connected and bundled together with some components he didn't recognize. None of it made any sense to him. But then, engineering was definitely not his strongest suit. Wesley's talent and photographic memory, together with his endless studying and tinkering, put him in Geordi's league: and indeed the boy could often be found in the chief engineer's company.

"Will you show me what it does, when you're finished?" Will asked Ben. The boy shrugged. "If you get it working before we get you home, that is?" The boy smiled softly, shyly.

"Think you'll be ready to go, soon?"

In answer, Ben put down the tool and power source, and began to gather parts from around him into a plastic bin at his side. Finally he lifted the multitool he'd been using, and touched Wesley's knee.

"Go ahead and take it, I've got another."

Ben nodded, and put the tool carefully in his bin with everything else.

"Hey," Wes said, "Come back tomorrow? I have school during alpha shift, but we could spend all beta shift together - I've barely shown you any of the ship yet."

Ben looked questioningly at Will, who answered quickly, "Fine with me." The boy turned back to his new friend and nodded, then stood, taking his project bin with him.

"Good night!" said Wes.

"Good night, Wes," Will called back as he headed out the door. "Good night, Doctor." She answered him with a wave. With a hand on the shoulder of the boy beside him, Will guided Ben toward his newly enlarged quarters.


	4. Chapter 4

-

His legs folded and back straight, Obi-Wan sat on the bed in his room in Will's quarters. Will had explained earlier that much of the living area of the ship was empty space with room modules set within it; adding a new room was often as simple as constructing a new module to connect it to the old. Adding a room to Will's quarters took only a few hours. Obi-Wan wondered how much time the Enterprise crew spent in space, that they took such care with their living arrangements. Did they have a home planet, or home planets? It was difficult for him to tell.

With an effort, he focused his mind, measuring his breathing for the first levels of a meditative trance. He felt mildly anxious about beginning the familiar exercise; he focused on his anxiety, examining it. Fear could be a teacher. And he had reason to be afraid: the last time he had drawn on the Force the sheer power of it had spun his conscious mind out of control. That was because Xanatos had saturated his body with some sort of substance, a drug that magnified Force-sensitivity. Most of the time the drug only gave him nightmares, or left him feeling tired. But at one point Xanatos had done something that activated the drug, so that he was nearly overwhelmed by the power within him... Obi-Wan no longer felt transparent, light and full of light, the way he had after Qui-Gon had helped him to change the drug's bias from the dark Force to the light. But he could still feel it within him: a strange sort of potential, almost a physical buzzing in his Force-sensitivity. Somehow the substance was quiescent for now, as it had been for most of the time he was hostage to Xanatos.

How had the drug become active in his system? How had it become quiescent once more? Obi-Wan cast his thought back in time, back to that time... Memories flashed through his mind: powerful memories, painful memories, and his first instinct was to deny them. He surfaced from his meditation all at once, with a soft cry of pain. His heart was racing, his fists clenched tight. He threw himself down on the bed, curled tightly, as if to hide from his fear, cocoon himself from memory.

"Ben?"

He heard a knock at the door, and it slid open. He heard Will step to his bedside, pause, sit down beside him. A warm, comforting hand came to rest, open, on his tight shoulders.

"It's all right, Ben. You're safe here."

At least for now, Obi-Wan thought.

"Would you like me to stay until you can sleep? I don't mind."

You're very kind, but I need to think, I need to face my fears. There's danger coming, I feel it. I need to be ready. But Will was already rubbing his back, in slow circles, and Obi-Wan could feel his body relaxing, tension draining from him. Exhaustion pulled at his conscious mind. Weeks of being on edge, of waiting, of enduring, of looking for a chance that never came, had taken their toll on him. He needed rest. Grateful for the feeling of security Will brought him, Obi-Wan let his mind sink slowly to dreams.

But first, before sleep took him entirely, he let memory return to him, expecting the pain this time, accepting it. He saw Xanatos crouched over him in anger, just before the Force exploded within him. Saw Xanatos injecting a hypospray in his arm... So that's how it worked. Some sort of activator drug, paired with the original... But what does that mean for me now? The question drifted in his mind as he fell into a deep, sound slumber.

He did not notice Will get up, finally, cover him with a blanket, and quietly leave the room.

Hours later, he woke all at once, his sight and mind captured by stars: a magnificent view of stars visible through portholes in the ship's hull where it curved over his bed. And he was warm; comfortable even without the blanket that covered him. Never in his young life had he experienced such luxury on a starfaring craft: even the luxury ship on which he and Qui-Gon had taken passage to Telos had been cold and cramped compared to Enterprise. A generous craft, home to a generous people. Fitting.

He had yet to understand the timekeeping systems here, but near as Obi-Wan could tell, it was some time yet before he would be expected to wake. He was no longer tired, so he pulled on the short brown robe Will had given him to wear over his sleep clothes (bathrobe, pajamas; Obi-Wan reminded himself of the strange words) and padded silently through the door into the main room.

All was still. Obi-Wan shed his robe, laying it over the back of one of the couches, and in the open area at the center of the room, began the stretching exercises preliminary to the morning rituals of physical meditation that he had performed nearly every dawn of his life, at the Temple or away from it. Without trying to draw on the strength of the Force, he opened his senses; the comfort of sleep and waking to safety had brought to him a feeling of calm, but also determination: to take control of his life, to act as a Jedi should. To act to forestall disaster. To heed the will of the Force.

He felt within himself a strange mix of emotion: fear of losing himself to Xanatos' drugs. Fear of losing his will to Xanatos' control. A deep sadness at thoughts of the Temple, of his home and friends. Were Bant and Garen, and all his other friends, performing these same exercises even now, in the coolness of the wide Temple meditation halls? Anxiety for Qui-Gon; for Ki-Erin and her master. Shame, that he had behaved so poorly, in the time when they had come to rescue him. Had his foolishness cost them their lives?

One by one he examined these feelings, recognized them for what they were, and let them go. They did not go far: he knew time and further reflection were necessary for him to come to terms with all he had experienced, all he was experiencing. But for now, he faced his fears and his anxiety, knowing it was necessary for him to understand and act with clarity of purpose.

And as he clarified his feelings, his thoughts grew to encompass a larger perspective, of his position as actor and tool within a larger web of lives and of purpose. He felt a threat, stymied temporarily but once more gathering strength, and recognized it as Xanatos: hunting for Qui-Gon, and hunting for him, but above all hunting for the strange ship that had so intrigued him. He felt the need of the crew of Enterprise: far from any territory familiar to them, and the route home every day less certain, still they performed their duties with steady determination and an unflagging optimism. They had no inkling of the threat Xanatos posed, soon to descend upon them.

Only Obi-Wan knew what was coming. He alone stood between the two worlds, with knowledge of one as he learned the other, and with the will to protect the people who had taken him in, and the will to stop Xanatos, to foil his plans. Questions of strategy passed through his mind: What kind of assault force would Xanatos bring to bear against the enormous Enterprise? What were her defensive and offensive capabilities, taking into consideration the damage she had already sustained? Could she hold out against proton torpedoes, continuous strafing runs by small starfighters, ion cannons?

He needed to know more. If only Xanatos had not left him mute! He had only a few days in which to learn enough to evaluate Enterprise's capabilities and to form and implement several alternate plans of action. Mentally Obi-Wan put near the top of his list figuring out a way to disable the implanted device that disabled his ability to communicate.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, of fresh purpose, Obi-Wan stepped gracefully into the closing forms of the morning ritual. He settled to his knees, focused on his breathing, and let his mind and senses return to the present. He was surprised to see Will sitting on the couch nearby, watching him. The man smiled as Obi-Wan focused on him.

"That's quite impressive. Is it something you practiced at home?"

Obi-Wan nodded, and drew one sleeve across his brow.

"Why don't you wash and dress; you can join me for breakfast when you're ready."

-

Fifteen minutes later, Will was at the table with a cup of coffee and his padd, reading the ops report on personnel assignments. Ben came from his room, his hair still wet, but fully dressed: he called up tea, a fruit platter, and a pile of biscuits from the replicator, obviously pleased that he now knew how to work the machine himself. Will wanted to speak with Ben about the day's schedule, but knew better than to interrupt an adolescent boy who had just begun breakfast. He watched covertly from across the table, amused, as the boy methodically tucked away everything in front of him, then returned to the replicator for a second helping.

"Do you have an extra stomach in your leg?" he joked. The boy smiled uncertainly. Will pushed his padd to one side, and leaned forward.

"I have an assignment off-ship that will occupy me for several hours early this afternoon; do you think you could occupy yourself here for that time?" Ben nodded his agreement. "Good. I'll need you to stay within the civilian quarters of the ship whenever you're unaccompanied; I'll show you the boundaries this morning. Once we're done with that chore, I thought I'd take you with me to visit Geordi in Engineering; I need to get a report from him on progress with repairs to the warp drive. Would you like to see Engineering?" Ben's face lit up, and Will knew he'd guessed the boy's interest in things technical correctly. "After I get back I'll be on duty on the bridge, but we've already arranged for you to spend that time with Wesley." Ben nodded his agreement.

Will tucked his padd into his uniform pocket, and rose from the table, gathering his dishes from breakfast for return to replicator stock. Ben joined him, in conscious imitation, rapidly swallowing his last few bites of biscuit.

"We'll be having lunch together before you go; there's no need to worry you might starve," Will teased him. The boy smiled hesitantly, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Don't mind me," Will apologized hurriedly, "I remember what it was like to be hungry at your age. I'm just making fun."

-

A quick tour of the civilian area of the ship, and Will brought Ben down to deck 36, to Geordi's office. The Engineering Chief was not actually in his office - not that Will had expected him to be - he was on the Engineering floor, at a computer terminal, surrounded by a small crowd of his "techs", reviewing the current problems and giving out assignments. Will stood unobtrusively by the side wall to wait, Ben at his side carefully examining his surroundings, the many terminal screens and instrument panels and of course the dramatic matter/antimatter reaction chamber. They had only a few minutes to wait: soon Geordi's crowd dispersed to their stations, about two thirds of the yellow-shirts stepping into the turbolift for destinations elsewhere.

"Good morning, Commander; Ben," Geordi greeted them. "What can I do for you?"

"An update on progress with repairs, Mr. LaForge?"

"Coming along," Geordi told him. "The damage to the plasma injection assemblies in the starboard warp nacelle is what's holding us up at this point. Without dry dock facilities, we have to proceed with extreme caution; and that takes time."

"How much time?"

"At least two more days; possibly three."

"And everything else?"

"The rest of the repairs, to our shields and weapons systems and so on, are nearly complete: we'll probably finish today and begin running diagnostics."

"Right on schedule, as you predicted, Geordi."

"I do my best, Commander." Geordi looked down at Ben. "What do you think of Enterprise, so far, Ben?"

Ben looked up with a winning smile and nodded vigorously. His blue eyes sparkled.

"Something special, isn't she? You're welcome to look around with Commander Riker; just don't touch anything unless you're invited to, alright?"

Ben nodded seriously.

"You should know that Data and I have made some progress on how to turn off your unwelcome implant." Geordi looked up to include Will. "It contains a power feedback system like nothing we've seen before, that we're not sure we can safely interrupt. On the other hand, it does seem to contain its own external communications module..."

"It can be controlled externally?" Will asked.

"Exactly. So if we can just work out its language... But that, of course, is not an easy challenge, especially given we have no samples of external feedback to study. But we're working on it." He touched Ben's shoulder.

"Thanks, Geordi," Will said for them both. "C'mon, Ben, I'll show you around: we can let Mr. LaForge get back to work."

-

Obi-Wan sat once more in Will's quarters, at the dining table, the parts for his new lightsaber spread out in front of him as he worked; Will had gone for the afternoon on his assignment, and Wes had not yet finished his school day, so now seemed the best time to work on the 'saber. Constructing a power recycling circuit was proving to be a challenge; it was one technology he could not find reference to in the ship's extensive databanks.

The visit to Engineering had taught him a great deal. The crew there, as elsewhere, was friendly and readily explained anything he showed any interest in; like engineers anywhere they were more than happy for an appreciative audience to whom they could explain their work. Obi-Wan was surprised to see they had no concept of a hyperdrive; their drive technology had evolved along completely different lines. They could actually travel through realspace at many times the speed of light, as Wes had explained to him yesterday. There were historians within the Republic who claimed that thousands of years ago, long before hyperspace travel, several species in the galaxy had developed Faster-Than-Light travel, but had abandoned it, when hyperspace drives were invented, as an inefficient and fuel-intensive means of travel with undesirable time-dilation side effects. Many modern scientists claimed that was impossible; that FTL travel itself was a theoretical impossibility. Well, prevailing scientific wisdom in the Republic was wrong: FTL was implemented and soon to be again functional, if Geordi was correct. Though Obi-Wan could see why it might have been abandoned in favor of hyperspace travel within the Republic. Even at Enterprise's top sustainable speed of about 1500c, she would take the better part of a century to cross the galaxy. Using well-mapped hyperspace routes, that same journey could take only a week or two.

Learning about Enterprise's shielding and weaponry was turning out to be a difficult task. As near as he could tell, the ship was equipped with various types of more and less familiar energy burst weapons; phaser technology, which seemed to be related to the replicator technology that so fascinated him; and variable-frequency shields. From diagrams he had studied in the ship's computers, he could see that weapons were much fewer in number than on a similar-sized Republic ship; they appeared to be distributed for ideal defense from one or two large vessels, but would have less success in defending against a large number of small vessels such as Xanatos was likely to bring. Even control of the weapons was centralized, not distributed. How could one or two defense officers mount a credible counterattack against a few dozen small- to medium-sized fighters?

They also seemed to have no ready defense against a concentrated ion burst. One or two bursts from a large ion cannon had the potential to cripple all the ship's power systems indefinitely, leaving them helpless. Still, their emissions and sensing technology was quite sophisticated; Obi-Wan had no doubt that given time he could help them put together a suitable defense.

If only he could speak to them!

That, of course, was the biggest obstacle to his helping. He could see no way to get any crewmember to give him access to the defense systems. He was, in their eyes, a child - why should they give him access to important ship functions? Not that he hadn't tried. But his pointing and questioning looks only got them to laughingly explain that they couldn't show him that, that was restricted access, don't touch now... No, he would have to be circumspect in his meddling.

Obi-Wan set down his tool and examined the power supply he was adapting. He inserted the probes of a power meter to test it, and found it was functional. It would not work as efficiently as those to be had at the Temple, but it would suffice: the charge should last at least ten hours even with the blade set to full power. He set the cylinder into the base of the hilt he had designed, careful of the circuitry he had welded into the top half of its length. All that remained was to get a true pair of Adegan crystals: originals, not the copies Wesley had replicated for him. Somehow the replication process had not reproduced the resonances Obi-Wan had felt in the crystals he had first chosen.

The door chimed; Obi-Wan went to open it. It was Wes, of course.

"All set to see more of the ship?"

Obi-Wan nodded, then indicated the table. He walked back to his project, Wesley following.

"How's it going?" Wes asked, as Obi-Wan piled tools and components back into the bin that Wesley had given him. Obi-Wan shrugged, and smiled, glad for once that being mute made evading a question so easy for him. He had a feeling the Enterprise crew would be concerned if they knew he was building a rather powerful weapon. Very few people aboard seemed to carry personal weapons at all. He stowed the bin in his room and followed Wesley out.

"Chess club meets in Ten-Forward this afternoon; have you ever played chess?" At Obi-Wan's shake of the head, he grinned mischievously. "I'll have to teach you then."


	5. Chapter 5

Will and Deanna, dressed in simple tunics and trousers to be inconspicuous among the locals and visitors planetside, walked along a dusty road into the city. The sun was just setting over the desert behind them, and painted the sky in glorious color.

"Are you sure we should be asking about him so close to where we found him?" Deanna asked.

"All of the other nearby settlements are too small for us to blend in. At least here we have a chance of remaining inconspicuous."

"I don't know, Will," she answered, "I'm sensing a great deal of anger and suspicion." She glanced, apparently casually, along the side of the road at a set of tumble-down dwellings; they both caught glimpses of someone or several someones watching them from the shadows. "Let's walk a little faster," she murmured.

Approaching the more populated areas of the city, groups of armed men swaggered down the wider streets; unarmed civilians walked quickly about their business, not lingering. There were noticeably fewer non-humans in evidence than the last time they had walked this area of town. Several of the armed men were eyeing them speculatively.

"Let's get off the street," Deanna suggested.

"I'm with you," Will agreed. "That tavern?"

Deanna nodded, and together they crossed the street and stepped inside the dingy interior.

Beings crowded the main room - mostly men. The few women looked particularly dangerous. Will put an arm around Deanna, earning a wry glance from her, and they pressed their way slowly to the bar, arriving in time to claim the seats of a pair of silvery-skinned natives just leaving. For all the overcrowding and air of tension, the tavern was remarkably quiet. The air buzzed with low-toned conversations. In imitation of the man beside them, Will ordered two 'lums', paying with some local coin replicated from a sampling of money they had acquired on an earlier trip.

"Recent arrivals?" the bartender asked as he placed two heavy mugs before them. He was perhaps sixty and quite stout, as bartenders often seemed to be: a brown-skinned human, wrinkled from years of sun.

Will nodded. "What's going on?"

"Well, now, how much would you say you know about local politics?"

"Not much, but we've been here for trade a few times before, trade in goods," he emphasized, "so not nothing either."

"Ah," the man nodded sagely. He refilled a mug from farther down the table, then slid toward them once more, continuing as if never interrupted. "A large faction of the local Mozelle tribes just decided that Starways has outworn its welcome."

"Why now?" Deanna asked.

"They've been itching for an excuse for a while now, at least the elders and more traditional clansmen have been. Too many violations of the bonder laws, and everyone's sure now there's more evasions of the law that goes on in the resorts - law-breaking that's covered up, that never comes to light."

"What laws in particular?"

Here again they had to wait, as the man left them to serve a new party of Mozelle that had just come in. Will sipped his drink - a bitter alcohol that reminded him of ale, but with an unusual tang - and watched the crowd over the rim of his mug. Deanna kept her eyes carefully vague, looking toward her mug, which she had barely touched - Will got the feeling she was concentrating intently on "feeling out" the crowd empathically.

There's tension here, she spoke in his mind, but it's controlled. Will glanced at her sharply, then covered up with another drink from his mug. It had been a long while since she spoke to him that way.

"Laws of fair taking, laws of use, codes of conduct, abuse laws, mandatory end of the bonder's term -" the bartender had sidled down to their end of the counter once more, and he continued with only a brief glance at Will, busy as he was with cleaning glasses and replacing them on the shelves behind him. "Name the law, offworlders have broken it."

"They have no honor," said a tall human male, perhaps forty, broad in the shoulders and looking like he could crack ribs with one swipe of his thick arm. He eyed the two Starfleet officers with open interest.

"Now Viden, these are goods traders, not slave traders. They want the news. I imagine they won't get much trading done in this climate. Viden is a trainer of bondsmen; he was there when the fighting started," the bartender said, looking full now at Will, and at Deanna when she looked up at him.

"The fighting?" she asked, and turned her attention on burly Viden.

"At the Palace," he began without preamble. He leaned against the bar, looking frankly at Deanna. She met his gaze squarely. "I was in the arena backstage, cleaning my equipment, when Sitaris came down the lift looking half-dead. Sitaris is no pushover," he added at Deanna's raised brows, "he's one of the best trainers of fighting bonders we have. Used to be one of the best fighting bonders, before he was freed. But he came down from his client's rooms, nearly dead, and told us a tale that roused our ire at last: his client had lied about the origin and status of his bonder, had abused his bonder, and attacked Sitaris when the man confronted him. So we attacked, and we asked for the support of the tribal elders, and received it."

"How did Sitaris discover the offworlder was lying?" the bartender asked, though he had been gone to the other end of the counter for most of Viden's speech. "That's what I haven't heard."

"He was having some suspicions anyway," Viden answered. "We all were. The boy performed brilliantly in the arena, but out of it he looked worn down, his spirit all broken down. None of us could fathom how he could be so successful." At that point, the bartender was called away again, and Viden paused for a swallow from his glass.

"What boy is this?" Will asked, wondering if he might mean Ben.

"They called him 'Golden Boy' in the arena. Youngest competitor ever - he was well on track to taking first position, when it all blew up. Beautiful to watch - as good as Sitaris ever was. You can see archives of his games on the 'net."

"So Sitaris was suspicious," the bartender prompted, returning.

"Right. And then a human went to Sitaris, and said the boy had been stolen from him."

"Would that be the boy's father?" Deanna asked.

"Bonders don't have parents," answered Viden. "All humans born on Lansar are born into bondage."

"But-"

"They're taken from their mothers very young," said the bartender quietly. "But you forget, Viden, even within the past year the further tribes have found and broken several Lansarite enclaves."

"Could the boy have parents from such an enclave?" Will asked.

"Mozelle don't leave survivors over the age of twelve," said Viden in an empty voice. "They consider the Lansar to be godless, and cursed. Only children will they take, as bonders."

"I'm sorry," said Deanna quietly.

They lapsed into silence. The bartender left, to refill more mugs. When he returned, he asked, "so this man was the boy's master?"

"So it would seem," answered Viden.

"Hmph," said the bartender thoughtfully.

"Has anyone seen the man since?" asked Deanna. "If he could be asked, or the boy -"

"The council of Elders would pay to have either of them found," said Viden. "A description of the man has been posted on the 'net. But both of them have disappeared, perhaps together, perhaps not. Regardless, I think the situation here is too far gone for a reasoned investigation to be much help. And Sitaris," he added at the bartender's questioning look, "has disappeared into the desert, with a group of followers, all sworn to end Starways. And now I must go," Viden said, putting down his empty glass. "Honor to you, Sammus."

"Good night Viden, and thank you for the news."

Will and Deanna gave their good-nights as well, pushing aside their mugs: Will's empty, and Deanna's nearly full. The maneuvered their way to the door, out to the empty street, brightly lit by a trio of small moons.

"Let's see these vids," said Will, looking around for a news kiosk.

"He's probably not Ben," said Deanna.

"Maybe."

They found a small news store just down the street, with viewing stations available for rental. With some difficulty they learned how to extract and view archived files: a task not helped by the poor condition of the viewers. But finally they found some tapes of 'Golden Boy', only a week old. They watched in silence. Then Will copied out all the relevant files to a small player he bought, and they left town, walking to a deserted hill from which they could safely beam up to the shuttle that had brought them from Enterprise.

"Will -" said Deanna as they walked.

"I can hardly believe it," said Will.

"He was acting under duress," she answered.

Will didn't answer. It was true that Ben had never looked to be enjoying the violent games. His expression was dead, blank. But Viden was right: he moved beautifully, gracefully. Dangerously. Ruthlessly. Will shuddered. In the last game they watched, Ben's opponent had nearly been killed. The camera had zoomed close to see the man's look of rage and terror as he fell, his chin a bloody mess. Did Ben see that face in his dreams?

"You can't go back to that boy feeling... repulsed by him. He'll know, he'll feel it."

"I know it's not his fault, Deanna."

"Do you? Try to put yourself in his position. A child, torn from your family, and you don't know if they're alive or dead. Forced to do the bidding of a cruel man who uses you for his own profit, and beats you if you disobey or fail him. Given that choice, between winning a dangerous contest or being beaten or killed, what would you choose? And how would you behave?"

Will sighed, feeling sorry now for his involuntary blame of the boy. "I would do my best, short of killing my opponent, and I would hate every minute."

They walked on in silence.

"This man who was asking after Ben -" said Deanna.

"If it was yet another master, Ben is better off without him."

"We don't know who he is."

"No. We should try to find him, to find out. If this Sitaris recovers enough to talk -"

"Dangerous. If we let on that we have the boy, the people here will want to take him back. We won't be able to stay inconspicuous."

"I don't see any other leads."

"There's Ben himself," Deanna reminded him.

"Yes, there's Ben. Maybe he can give us more clues." Will was quiet a moment, thinking. "I woke up this morning to find him performing some sort of routine in the living room. Something like T'ai Chi, an exercise for balance and coordination. He is astonishingly graceful."

"Do you think he would enjoy Worf's martial arts class tonight?"

Will looked at the counselor in surprise. "Do you think that's wise?"

"I think it may help him make something positive out of a talent that he's had to use negatively."

Will nodded slowly. "I'll ask him."

Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the shadows as they beamed back to the ship, transporter energies bright in the desert night.


	6. Chapter 6

Hours later, his bridge shift finished, Will walked with Dr. Crusher from her quarters to the Ten-Forward lounge.

"They've been there all afternoon?" Will asked in amazement.

Beverly nodded. "They ate dinner there. "

"What are they up to?" Will wondered.

They could hear the hubbub from down the hall. Seeing them enter, Guinan left her post behind the bar to join them. Neither boy could be seen, but a mass of crewmembers, all talking and laughing excitedly, was crowded around the tables where the chess club usually met before dinner.

"Your Ben and Wesley have become quite the draw," Guinan told them. At their raised eyebrows, she added, "Wesley is normally undisputed king of the chess club. Seeing him credibly challenged has everyone in a fit of excitement. Especially with the challenger being a newcomer, and a boy his own age at that."

"I didn't know Ben knew chess," said Will, dumbfounded.

"He didn't eight hours ago," Guinan answered with a smile.

Will and Beverly looked at each other in surprise. Then the doctor laughed. "Either Wesley's going to be incredibly upset or ecstatically happy. Or maybe both. This has got to be good for him."

Will just shook his head. He didn't know what to think. Certainly he was learning a great deal more about Ben today, but all he learned only led him to more questions.

Guinan left them as they pushed their way through the crowd to the table where the two boys were playing, a carved chessboard between them: Wesley's favorite, replicated from a set his father had used as a child. Wesley was playing black, Ben white. A row of captured pieces lined the board's side, but the play still looked remarkably balanced to Will's admittedly amateur eye. Both boys were frowning, faces intent: Wes slouched back in his chair, Ben sitting straight with his legs folded, tucked up beneath him on the chair's seat. A hush settled on the watching crowd. After a few minutes of this, Wes broke the tableau by leaning forward to move his knight. Ben countered with a bishop. Immediately a dozen or so whispered (and some louder) conversations broke out around them.

Quiet slowly descended once more, all eyes on Wes, slouched and perfectly still with his eyes on the chessboard. Finally he leaned slowly forward, and pushed up one of his pawns.

Now it was Ben's turn to be still. For several minutes he considered, head tilted to one side, everyone watching. Whispers broke out once more around them. Finally he sighed, and smiled softly, and moved a rook several squares backward.

Wes grinned, and immediately charged forward with his knight, pinning the king in a corner. "Check," he said. Ben grinned back, and shrugged. He took Wes' knight with his bishop, but clearly he knew the game was over. They quickly played out the last few moves of the end game.

"Mate," said Wes, taking the king with his queen. "Good game, Ben - you had me going there, I thought I was a goner." They shook hands over the table, as pandemonium broke out around them, congratulations to both of them, and animated discussions of the game.

"Unbelievable," said a young scientist to his fellow, both of whom Will recognized as being from the stellar cartography crew. "That he even won one out of three with Wes, and new to the game -"

"Ben never played before today?" Will asked Wes, still skeptical.

"Not exactly," Wes answered. "He let us know he's played something similar. But the pieces and the moves are all different in the game he plays, if I get what he was showing us. We'll have to play more, Ben," Wes said to his friend. "At this rate you'll be killing me within a few days." Ben just shook his head and grinned, putting pieces away in their storage box.

"Ice cream floats for the two brave contestants," said Guinan, gliding up with two tall glasses in hand. She placed one in front of each boy. "And would either of you like something to drink?" she asked Will and Beverly.

"Synthehol, thanks," said Will, reversing his chair and straddling it.

Beverly took her seat in a more standard manner, on the opposite side of the table. "I'll have a lemon water, thanks, Guinan," she said.

"Thanks for the floats, Guinan," said Wes, and Ben nodded enthusiastically.

"You are decidedly welcome," she answered. "Something for you, Deanna?" she asked the counselor, who had just come to join them.

"Nothing, thank you," Deanna answered, and pulled a seat from another table to join the other four. Guinan smiled and glided back to the bar, her long loose dress fluttering behind her.

"Wes and Ben just had a short chess tournament," Will said, bringing Deanna up to date. He took his drink from Guinan, who had returned with a tray.

"So I heard on the way in," she informed them. The halls were buzzing with it. You took one of three, Ben?" The boy nodded.

"Wes said you knew a game like chess already," Will told Ben. "Did your parents teach you?" he guessed. Ben shook his head no, his attention suddenly intent on his treat. Will pressed on. "Someone else in your family, or a neighbor? A friend of your parents?" The boy shrugged.

"We spoke with Lieutenant Worf this afternoon," Deanna said, changing the subject. "Worf is Chief of Security here on Enterprise. Will told him about the skill you displayed this morning, and Worf agreed that you may join his advanced class in martial arts this evening, if you would like."

"And if you pass his muster," Will added. "He wants to work with you before class, to assess your skill. Are you interested? We should leave soon, if you are."

"The advanced class," said Wesley, impressed. "You're in that class, Commander!"

"Which makes it all the more convenient for me to take him," Will agreed. "How about it, Ben?"

Ben looked around at them all, looking uncertain.

"You can always back out if it looks to be too much for you," Will told him.

Ben nodded slowly, considering, then nodded once with certainty. He put down his spoon. Somehow he had finished the float in the time they were speaking. Will drained his glass in one gulp. "All right then, let's go. It will take some time to get changed. We have to replicate you a gi."

"See you tomorrow, Ben, same time?"

Ben nodded, then glanced quickly up at Will, who smiled his approval.

"I'll see you later this evening," Deanna told them.

"See you then," Will agreed.

-

Will and Ben walked back to Will's quarters, damp from the showers and pleasantly tired from an intense workout. At least, Will was tired. After two and a half hours of steady practice, Ben seemed more energized than worn out. Will shook his head at the spring in the boy's step. Had he been so tireless, as a boy in Alaska? Short winter Saturdays, out wrestling in the snow with his friends for hours - he smiled at the memory. Okay, so maybe he had been that relentless.

Deanna met them at the door to his quarters, coming around the opposite corner from the lift just as they were walking down the hall. "Good timing," Will said with a smile, and opened his door.

Ben went straight for the replicator, of course. He looked over at Will before keying it on.

"Get what you want, I know you're hungry. Just water for me, thanks," Will answered the unspoken question. "Something to drink, Deanna?"

"I'll have water as well," she answered.

Ben brought them the water first, then returned to the table with a large bean casserole of some kind. Will had noticed that the boy tended to favor vegetarian meals, when left to choose for himself. He made a mental note to introduce him to burritos at lunch tomorrow.

"How was class?" Deanna asked him.

"It went well," Will answered. "Worf was impressed. He said: 'the boy has admirable skill, for a human.'"

Deanna smiled at Will's impression of the deep-voiced Klingon. "Did you enjoy the class, Ben?" she asked the boy. He nodded happily.

"You missed a good performance by Dav Gilder's jazz band after you left," Deanna told Will. He let her engage him in small talk about the doings of the crew, so the boy could finish his meal in peace. It didn't take Ben long; though he seemed to be actively listening as the two adults chatted, as usual Will was left wondering, only a short while later, whether the boy had inhaled all that food.

"Well, Ben," Deanna began when the boy returned from disposing of his empty dishes. "You may have wondered what Will and I were up to this morning." Ben nodded, looking curious.

"We went down to the planet's surface," Will told him, "to the city around the Starways resort, to try to learn more about where you might have come from." Ben's brows drew together at this; a look of concern or perplexity. "We talked to a slave trainer there, who works at the arena. He told us about how the fighting in Starways got started. He said another trainer named Sitaris was nearly killed by Xanatos. That Xanatos had stolen you from another man." Ben watched Will, his eyes unwavering, his face sad.

"Is that what happened, as far as you know?" Deanna asked in a quiet voice. Ben shifted his gaze to her, and nodded slowly. "Sitaris confronted Xanatos, and Xanatos tried to kill him?" Ben nodded again. "And you were taken from another man, another human?" He nodded again. "Was that other man your father?" He shook his head no.

"Your master?" Will interjected, his voice harsh. Ben nodded quickly, then stopped, head tilted to one side, face contorting, as though there was more he wanted desperately to tell them. "You needn't worry I'll bring you back to any master," Will told him firmly. "No matter who thinks he owned you first." At this Ben shook his head in a decisive negative, and placed a hand on Will's arm, looking at him plaintively.

"Are either of your parents alive, Ben?" Deanna asked gently. Slowly he looked back at her, his face still and anguished, as though at a loss for what to answer. Finally he nodded, his movement small. "Are you certain?" she pressed. After a long moment, he shrugged, not carelessly, but watching her intently. "Can you remember what was happening when you were taken from them?" At this all self-possession left the boy. His face contorted, and he looked back and forth between the two adults. Finally he leaned back in his seat and covered his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry, Ben," Deanna said soothingly, and looked desperately at Will. "I don't want to hurt you, to remind you of things you would prefer to forget." The boy looked up at her at that, his eyes intent, pleading. He shook his head, slowly, his body shouting there was more he wanted to say, if only he had the words. Will couldn't help but feel his frustration. He sighed. Perhaps they should try another tack.

"If we showed you maps of Lansar," Will asked, "Could you point out your parents' home?"

Ben shook his head in a definite, weary no, and drew his feet up on the chair, arms around his folded knees. Will and Deanna exchanged resigned glances.

"Why don't you get ready for bed, now, Ben," Will told the boy gently. "It's late." Ben looked up at him a long moment, pleading, but Will didn't know what more he could do. "We'll think of something tomorrow. Don't worry, we're not giving up." Ben nodded, and unfolded himself from the chair, leaving for his room.

"Why do I have the feeling we're asking all the wrong questions?" Will asked Deanna quietly once the door had closed behind the boy.

The counselor only shook her head in answer. "We need him to talk to us. He needs to talk to us. I can only imagine how difficult it is for him to have his thoughts, his emotions, his experiences all bottled up inside him." She looked away, toward the closed door. "It would help us understand him, I think, if I could only sense his emotions."

"He's still a blank to you."

She nodded. "Perhaps if I spent more time with him -"

"We're scheduled for another trip to the surface tomorrow. Perhaps we should cancel it?"

Deanna sat back in her seat, thinking. "No," she said finally. "We should try to track down that former master, or see if we can reach Sitaris. One of them might know something. Though how we are going to get them to talk, is another matter entirely," she finished, muttering. She placed her now-empty glass before him on the table and stood. "How much time before we leave the system, and take our chances with the wormhole?"

"At least another few days," Will told her.

Deanna turned to go, then stopped. "Will," she said, hesitant, "what if he has no family to go to? What if they're all dead?"

Will took a long pull from his drink before answering. He had replicated something a bit stronger than water while Ben was eating. "Then we take him with us." Will said. "As my ward, if that seems the most appropriate."

"Will he want to come?" Deanna asked.

Will met her eyes, and sighed. "Do we have to worry about that now?"

Deanna smiled sadly. "The question can wait another day or so." She stepped to the door. "Until tomorrow, Will."

"Good night, Deanna."


	7. Chapter 7

Obi-Wan sat wakeful on his bed, legs crossed in a meditative position. It took him a while to clear his mind of his frustration with Will and Deanna's misunderstanding of his situation. He wished he could have gone to Lansar with them himself. But of course he couldn't: he must be easily recognizable there, after all the times his arena matches had been broadcast on the 'vids. And he still needed to prepare a defense against Xanatos' arrival in force.

He was running out of time, he could sense it: Will and Deanna's excursion this morning on the planet's surface had only brought Xanatos closer to finding them. Obi-Wan had to put the pieces of his plan into motion, and quickly. He needed to finish his new lightsaber.

He'd finish it tonight.

Certain in his decision, Obi-Wan slipped under the blanket on his bed, lying down to rest and wait until Deanna was gone and Will gone asleep. He closed his eyes and stretched out with his feelings. A gentle presence that must be Deanna was just leaving, passing briskly away towards the heart of Enterprise's saucer section. Will's bright flame approached Obi-Wan's door. Obi-Wan slowed his breathing. When Will peered in at him, the light of the living area behind illuminated a boy relaxed and motionless, apparently deep in slumber. The door closed; Will passed to his own sleeping area. A half hour passed. Finally Will's presence blurred into sleep.

Obi-Wan waited a half hour more, his spirit awash in the life of the ship around him, as most of the many sparks it carried settled in for shipboard night. At last the boy swung his feet to the floor. In darkness he padded silently to the desk where he kept the parts of his new lightsaber. From the pocket of his jacket, hung by the door, he fished the two replicated Adegan crystals, transferring them to the pocket of his bathrobe, which he pulled on over his pajamas.

All was quiet in the hall, lights dimmed to half for night. Open to the Force, Obi-Wan could feel no one up and stirring in the halls; still he walked with caution, for he did not wish to be stopped or hindered in his quest, and his presence alone in the halls at this time would certainly arouse any crewmember's curiosity. Five levels down; Obi-Wan used the utility ladders rather than the turbolifts so as to better avoid wandering eyes. Finally he reached the hall of mineral samples.

After some consideration, Obi-Wan had chosen a lightsaber design that would make use of one rather than two Adegan crystals. Though a single crystal would limit the saber's functionality to a constant blade length - two would have allowed him to adjust the blade length - that small sacrifice in function bought him a day or more in time he would have needed to build in the extra functionality: time he could not afford. So when he found the bin of Adegan crystals, Obi-Wan traded only one of the replicated crystals for its original.

Now for the difficult part: time to fuse his lightsaber into a working whole. He needed to do so in a place where he would not be easily found or disturbed; somewhere he could sink into a working trance for as long as necessary. All day, touring the ship, he had kept his eyes open for such a place; now he turned his attention to reaching the secluded spot he had chosen. It was not far. A few turns and one level down, and he reached it: the ship's main gardens.

He wound his way through plants and trees, to the heart of the great room. As in the rest of this area of the ship, the lights here had been dimmed; only the guide-lights that curved around the edges of the chamber of the room were lit. The great full-spectrum lights that, during ship's day-shifts, filled the room with the brightness of a planet's day-cycle, were dark: to give the plants their nocturnal rest. Beneath the quiet of the greenery all was dim as a wood in moonlight. Obi-Wan slipped from the main path, stepping on stones and roots to avoid leaving a trail in the soft loam with his bare feet. Finally he reached a spot, deep among the sheltering bushes, where he could sit for a time at peace. Water flowed close by: a trickle of a stream over rounded stones: part of the garden's irrigation system, fashioned with a care and eye to aesthetics that Obi-Wan had found was typical of Enterprise. It reminded him of the gardens at the Temple, in a way both alien and home-like, that filled him with sadness and longing and comfort all at once. Some day, Force willing, he would return to the Temple, to the life he was meant to live. For now he had a task before him.

He slipped easily into a Force-trance, helped by the green life that surrounded him. Legs crossed beneath him, seated at the foot of a small tree, the parts of his unfinished 'saber in his lap, he let himself sink deeper. His hands would know what to do. He must join with the Force to be certain the task was done correctly. There was no way else to properly align an Adegan crystal in its housing: no machine could meld crystal and components into an elegant whole. To try this task without the Force's guidance would not only be fruitless but dangerous: the entire assembly would most likely explode spectacularly the first time it was activated. Slowly Obi-Wan let go his consciousness, trusting in the Force.

-

With light came wakefulness, slowly, as the light grew slowly. Obi-Wan relaxed in the growing brightness, letting go his dreams, as he had all the days of his childhood, with lights in all the rooms of the Temple cycling from the dimness of dawn to the intensity of the morning sun streaming in through a window. Of course, none of the Jedi children's quarters actually had windows: the massive Temple was built on populous Coruscant after all, where space for windows was difficult to come by.

But something was strange, here: these were not the scents or sounds of his own quarters. The air was rich with the scent of earth; the room echoed with rustling and soft voices. For a moment only, he wrestled with disorientation. Then, as memory of the past weeks rushed back to him, he opened his eyes.

He was lying on the dirt beneath a tree, in the Enterprise gardens: he must have fallen asleep, exhausted, when he finished his meditation. Before him lay his lightsaber, whole and complete. He heard voices approaching: anxious voices. Worf's deep tones were easy to identify. Quickly Obi-Wan picked up his new 'saber and tucked it into a deep pocket of his robe. Just in time.

"There he is," called Worf in a calm voice. Light footfalls and the rustling of bushes heralded their arrival: Deanna and Will, both looking anxious. Obi-Wan, still curled up on the ground, looked up at them, not needing to feign sleepiness. He was still tired out from the night's endeavor.

"What are you doing here, Ben?" Deanna fussed.

Will said, almost at the same time, "Have you been here all night?" Together the two officers pulled him gently to his feet. Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes and shook out his cramped muscles while they brushed him off. Deanna looked like she was wrestling with some decision. Her eyes crinkled when she looked at him. She was worried about him. Obi-Wan dropped his eyes, embarrassed. He had not wanted to worry anyone, least of all these two. He should never have fallen asleep last night after he finished.

"Ben, did we upset you last night?" Will asked quietly. Deanna raised a hand to him as though to stop him, then seemed to think better of it and let it drop. Obi-Wan looked up at Will, troubled. He had been upset last night, at least at first, but...

"Do you want to move to Dr. Crusher's quarters?"

The question took him completely by surprise. He shook his head in a vigorous no, then bit his lip, seeing Will's honest concern for his well-being.

"I'm sorry, Ben. I wish we could talk this over. I really don't know what to do to help you right now."

Obi-Wan shrugged, trying to let them know that there was nothing he thought they could do. No one wanted more than he that he could talk again. Until his voice came back to him, he was on his own.

"Commander -" Worf called out.

"We'll be right there, Lieutenant," Deanna called back.

"Just - please don't leave our quarters like that without letting me know, okay?"

Obi-Wan nodded. For now he'd do his best to avoid alarming his temporary guardians. For as long as he could manage it, anyway.

-

"Commander." Worf quietly held Will back as Deanna and Ben disappeared into his quarters. Will turned to face him, letting the door slide closed.

"Yes, Lieutenant Worf?"

The Klingon, normally self-assured, paused, looking strangely ill-at-ease. "Sir, as security chief it concerns me that Ben is wandering the ship unsupervised. He is, as yet, an alien of unknown and apparently unknowable intention."

"He's only a boy, Lieutenant."

"A boy who is well-trained and extraordinarily skilled in the martial arts. A boy who wandered six decks and a considerable distance from his quarters last night without being seen."

"His history as a slave, Lieutenant..."

"He does not act as a slave would, not as you described slave behavior on the planet."

"When I asked he let me know he had only been enslaved a short while."

"Then where, and why, did he learn to fight so well? He must have been training intensely for most of his young life to be so skilled. And another thing - what is the heavy object he is carrying in the pocket of his robe? He touched it several times during our walk here, and let his hand hover over it as though to protect it, or to keep it from our sight."

Will frowned. Though he could not help but feel that Worf was overreacting, it was the security chief's job to be careful. His concerns could not be dismissed. "I don't know what he's carrying: perhaps the device he's been making with Wes. If you like, I can arrange for him to be supervised outside of our quarters while I'm on duty."

"That won't prevent him from wandering the ship at night."

Will thought for a moment. "I can set the door to inform me when he exits or enters our quarters, and we can have him carry a padd, to make it easy to track him down."

Worf nodded. "Thank you Commander, it will ease my mind to know you are taking those precautions."

"Thank you for your help this morning, Worf."

"Of course, sir." The burly Klingon nodded respectfully, and left.

Will went to his quarters, bemused by the Klingon's concern. Ben and Deanna were just setting food on the table for breakfast. The boy was already dressed. Will joined them.

"Your nocturnal wandering has Worf concerned, Ben." The boy glanced up at him, looking embarrassed. Well, it was good to know he valued the good opinion of others. Will pressed on. "He asked that you not leave our quarters unaccompanied. I won't have time this morning to arrange for you to stay with someone; will you agree to remain here until I return, or until Wes comes for you?"

Ben's face fell, but he nodded.

"All right then. I'll see about arranging something more interesting for tomorrow. In the meantime, you still have tools from Wesley for your projects, right?"

The boy nodded, and forced a smile.


	8. Chapter 8

After breakfast, after Deanna excused herself to attend to her duties, Will replicated a new padd, which he gave to Obi-Wan. "Wes showed you how to use this, I believe," Will asked.

Obi-Wan nodded. Wes had given him a thorough tour of the padd's functions the first time they had met. In fact... he remembered Wes telling him that almost any ship's function could be controlled from a padd. Looking down at the tiny device, Obi-Wan felt a rising excitement - if he could use the padd to develop his shielding plan - but wait. Wes had also said that only officers could access ship's functions from a padd. How? With a password?

"I'd like you to carry this with you at all times," Will told him, and he had Obi-Wan wrap his hand around it, fitting his fingers to slight contours on the sides, as he pushed some function keys. Obi-Wan watched carefully, trying to understand what Will was doing. Will saw, and explained. "I'm keying it to your physical profile. That way I can find you if I need to." Will smiled reassuringly, but Obi-Wan guessed that the padd was a way to monitor him. But if it could be keyed to him alone...

Obi-Wan pointed to the padd, and then to Will.

The man laughed. "Yes, I have one too, and you could use your padd to find me if you want to. I don't even have to be carrying the padd: my communicator will also perform that function." He pointed to the small metal insignia that was pinned to his chest. Obi-Wan had seen how crewmembers tapped their insignia to activate shipboard intercommunications; of course it would be locatable by padd, if the padds also acted as communicators. "Speaking of padds," Will continued, "I should check the duty roster for today before I head out." He went to a desk at the side of the room, pressed his thumb to a catch on the front, and a door slid open. He pulled out a padd, identical to the one he'd given Obi-Wan, and went to sit at the table. Obi-Wan followed him, looking questioningly at Will as he took up a position behind the man where he could watch. Will smiled encouragingly. "It's okay, you can watch as I do this. You won't be able to use these menus with your padd, though; they're restricted access." For the next ten minutes he explained the procedures for assigning tasks and use of equipment to personnel on the ship. Obi-Wan attended carefully, barely daring to hope. Could there be some way he could use a padd to get into the ship's defensive systems?

Obi-Wan was relieved to see Will lock his padd back in his desk drawer before leaving for the day. He had feared that he would have to wait until night again to experiment with it, and he was convinced that time was running out more quickly than ever. He sat alone on the couch in Will's quarters, and glanced down at his padd. It had not taken him long to find the locator function. He waited until the padd said Will had reached the bridge; then he shut off its power and flipped it over.

A little fiddling with the tool Wes had lent to him, and Obi-Wan had the padd open. Carefully he examined its innards. He was not as fluent with Enterprise's alien technology as he was with standard Republic electronics, but the padd was not a complex device. He quickly identified sensors, memory, power supply, and processors. How was security implemented?

When he thought he had the device figured out, he put it down and went to Will's desk. His idea wouldn't work at all if he couldn't open the drawer. He put his hands on either side of the thumb-lock, and opened his mind to the Force. Open, he commanded. Open. With a soft click, the drawer popped open. Obi-Wan pulled out Will's padd, eyeing it nervously. He hated betraying Will's trust by breaking into his things. He shook his head, sighing. It was the only way he could think to help. And the crew of Enterprise needed his help, though they didn't realize it yet.

It only took a few moments to open Will's padd. Carefully Obi-Wan swapped the components he thought pertained to security. He swallowed his anxiety, and opened himself to the Force. All felt right... Closing Will's padd, he flipped it over and turned it on.

It worked.

He tapped through the restricted menus, barely daring to hope. The Force was with him. He had full access to the ship's systems. Taking a moment to steady his breathing, Obi-Wan paged through the defense and shielding data, reading quickly, his mind already forming a plan.

Hours later, exhausted, Obi-Wan restored both padds to their original configuration and returned Will's to the drawer. He went to his room and flopped onto his bed. Wes wasn't due for another two hours, so he had time for a nap, to make up for his long hours of wakefulness last night. He rolled onto his side and fell asleep.

-

Will and Deanna, again dressed in civilian clothing, scanned the crowd around them. It was earlier in the day than they had come yesterday - the sun still an hour from setting - which might account for the much heavier traffic on the streets. Soon after they arrived in the city, he and Deanna had found postings on the public kiosk: pictures of Ben and of an older man, with notes that they were wanted for questioning by the local council of elders. No name was listed for the man, and neither Starfleet officer recognized his image: A light-skinned human late in his prime, with graying dark blond hair, a grizzled beard, hooked nose, and light blue eyes. He wore a dark hooded robe. Will assumed he was the man who had been asking after Ben, before the fighting broke out at the Palace.

"You won't find him," Deanna murmured. "He's not likely to show his face in this crowd, with his image posted everywhere and a bounty for finding him."

Will just grunted. People were beginning to leave the streets, peeling off into taverns and individual dwellings. Five minutes later, nearly everyone still out walking was moving briskly toward the center of the city. Exchanging a brief glance, Will and Deana followed. Turning a corner, they saw the common destination: people streaming into a large, squat building.

Joining the throng that streamed in through the building's many doors, they found themselves inside a wide hall, standing room only, wall to wall with people - human and silvery-skinned Mozelle both - with more pressing in from doors all around. At the front of the hall was a tall, raised dais, holding a long table with chairs behind it, with guards posted all around. Directly in front of the dais, an area filled with chairs - separated from the rest of the hall by a low wall - seated about a hundred Mozelle: probably the local dignitaries, Will reflected. Then a line of elderly Mozelle ascended the platform from behind, to face the crowd, each standing behind a seat at the table. At the same time guards blocked the entryways, denying entrance to latecomers. Slowly the people pressed into the hall fell silent.

An old woman, standing at the center of the long table on the dais, raised her arms. A small device, round and about the size of a baseball, floated over the heads of the crowd to hover above and a meter or so before her. "Welcome, people of Lansar," the woman intoned in a strong voice, amplified and projected by speakers set around its perimeter and overhead, "to the Council of Elders. Welcome. We have asked for your participation today, over the holonet or in person, to discuss a matter of great import to our people: our relationship to the resort called Starways. Its presence has enriched our planet, and yet grave accusations have been leveled in regard to their conduct. Though they promised to abide by our common law, there is evidence that they have flouted that law, indeed that they do so on a regular basis, hiding their dishonorable activity from our eyes. Should Starways be required to leave Lansar? If we require their exit, will they leave peaceably? Have we the strength to force them out? Or should we negotiate with Starways, and continue the relationship? The Council will now hear arguments. The floor will be opened first to tribal leaders." The woman gestured toward the seated Mozelle at the front of the hall.

A woman raised her hand. The hovering device zipped over toward her, and lit her face from above with a beam on its underside. She stood, and when she spoke her voice filled the hall, echoing from the speakers surrounding them. "Since Starways came we have enough water for our people, and fertile land to grow crops. For the first time in generations, none of our people go hungry. Starways brings visitors and traders to our city, who buy our wares and fill our taverns." An buzzing rumble, with an undertone of anger, grew among the people as she spoke. "I do not say this is sufficient reason of itself to invite them to stay," she said quickly. "Only we should keep in mind the benefits they have brought to us as we debate." The woman took her seat.

Many more arms were raised now, among the seated leaders. The hovering mechanical moved toward a man a few seats away, lighting him. He took his turn to stand and speak, and again his voice was amplified. The floating device evidently contained an audio pickup, at least. "To have dealings with the dishonorable dishonors us. Starways must be ejected immediately." Again murmuring swelled within the hall, not dying down until the audio pickup device chose another speaker.

"I do not disagree that Starways should leave. However I wish to know how they can be made to leave. They have threatened to come in force to take our planet if we refuse to accommodate them. They have sealed themselves off from attack. We have no way to prevent them from bringing in starcraft and ground troops to attack us. Our numbers are not great; our weaponry is primitive compared to theirs. What hope do we have of being able to eject them?"

A woman stood. "Perhaps we can make it not worth their while to stay?"

Another woman: "We cannot move our planet. We reside at the conjunction of several of the outer rim hyperspace lanes. For our location alone, our planet is of value as a way station."

Will lowered his face to whisper to Deanna. "Will attending this conclave help us to accomplish our mission here? Perhaps we should leave."

"I don't think we can, not easily," Deanna whispered back. "There are too many people, and we'd attract a lot of attention by pushing out. Also..." she gestured with her head toward the people across the hall, beside them. "About three meters away. Viden."

Will glanced that way, and saw the burly trainer talking quietly with two companions: a man and a woman, both looking about fifty years old, the man with dark skin brushed with silver, the woman human, with skin of honey brown and shoulder-length hair of honey gold.

"Viden is anticipating something. The other two I can't read." Deanna glanced up at Will with a significant look.

"Like Ben and Xanatos," Will murmured. Deanna nodded, already facing the dais and speakers once more.

"If the gods are with us," a man was finishing, "we will prevail."

The woman at the center of the table on the dais stood once more and spoke. "We will now take comments from the public. Limit your comments to three minutes, expressing only thoughts and opinions which have not yet been aired tonight. The hovercam will project your voice." She waved an arm in the direction of the floating device above her head. Instantly several dozen arms were raised high among the standing people. Glancing sideways, Will saw that the honey-haired woman was one of those waiting for the hovercam's attention. She stood calmly, as did the two men standing to either side of her. A man in front of her grew over-excited with vigorously waving his arms; he nearly elbowed her in the face, but the unknown man pushed his arm away in time. Will blinked and stared openly. The woman had not even flinched.

"I think that woman may be blind," he murmured in Deanna's ear.

The tall Mozelle standing with Viden turned, and looked him full in the face, eyes considering. Will, surprised, glanced quickly away, then back. The man had turned away, bent to speak in the ear of the woman beside him.

"They've noticed us," Will told Deanna. "Do you think that's a problem?"

"I can't say." she answered. "I still can't sense them."

The hovercam came to rest above the honey-haired woman; Will noticed she did not blink or squint in the bright light. "It has been said that we cannot drive out Starways, that we haven't the strength. That we must be able to or the gods are not with us. In the days of the Lansarite colonists' folly, the Mozelle were weak and divided. The Mozelle were only able to stop the depredations of the Lansarites by banding together, by working as a united group. Only then did the gods grant the Mozelle victory. Now the people of Lansar are beset by a new and mightier threat, one that cannot be defeated by all the people of this world united. I submit that it is time to find a new ally, one that is stronger than Starways, an ally known for honorable dealings. As Starways is born of many planets, so we must join an alliance of many planets to drive them out."

A man of the Council of Elders rose to his feet behind the table as the woman lapsed into silence; excited muttering filled the hall. The hovercam winged its way to the dais. "Do you have an ally to suggest, woman?" he asked.

"I suggest that the people of Lansar should seek membership in the Galactic Republic."

At this, conversation broke out all over the hall, filling the wide space with the roar of voices. The Council Elders leaned towards each other to talk amongst themselves. Finally the head of the Council rose to speak. She stretched out her arms. Her voice, amplified to carry even over the tumult in the hall, blared out for a moment before returning to more bearable levels as conversation died down amongst the people. "The Republic will not have dealings with us; our practice of keeping bonders is contrary to their law."

The hovercam now raced back to the woman, but now she gestured to Viden to carry on the argument. His voice carried, clear and steady, to all corners of the again silent hall. "It is true that we cannot join the Republic and still continue keeping bonders. But I submit that our practices of slavery do not enrich us, but instead make us weak and full of vice!" At this angry murmurs broke out once more, but Viden ignored them. "It is true that as proscribed in our code of law, a bonder may grow strong. But what has happened in these days when bonders are as common as red lizards? In each generation since the joining of the tribes, more owners have fallen to the vices of laziness and neglect. More bonders have died or been beaten until their spirits were broken. There is no honor in this! If the gods favor the strong, who is most strong that we know of? The Republic, and many of its member worlds, such as the Wookies and the Calamari. The Republic's arm of justice, its servants, the Jedi. It is said that the Jedi will answer any call for help, where a people is in need, and the cause just. Let us call for the Jedi to birth us as a new world, one fit to join the largest and strongest alliance in all the galaxy! Has not everyone here heard of the Jedi, of their great wisdom and power, respected for their honor throughout all the civilized worlds?"

Again talk exploded in the hall, but stopped quickly when the head of the Council rose and spoke once more. "Well spoken, citizen. We will take your suggestion under advisement. Are there more opinions to be openly aired in this forum? Raise your hands and take your turn."

Hands flew up; fewer now than before, but still many. Will glanced over to see Viden and his two companions again talking quietly.

"That was promising," murmured Deanna. "There may be hope for this world yet. There was less anger at their proposal than I had feared, and more favorable emotions than I would have hoped."

"We should try to speak with them when the meeting is over," Will suggested.

"If we can," Deanna countered. "I fear we won't be the only ones trying to get their ear, not by a long shot." As she spoke, Will noticed the many faces turning to get a glimpse of the three revolutionaries; and some people trying to edge in their direction. The man they did not know again glanced in their direction, locking eyes with Will.

"I think we'll have an advantage in getting their attention," Will said. "I think they're as interested in us as we are -"

He was interrupted by an urgent clicking of his hidden communicator. He reached inside the loose tunic he was wearing to shut off the sound.

"We'll need to find someplace private," Deanna commented. "The doors aren't so far behind us." Will agreed silently. They'd attract a lot of notice, but that couldn't be helped. Enterprise wouldn't be trying to contact them unless something urgent had come up. Will turned to push slowly between the people behind him, Deanna following.

When they had nearly reached the doors, the current speaker was interrupted. The hovercam sped back to the dais, to catch the words of the Council leader. "My people," she said, "please remain where you are standing and listen to what I have to tell you." The two officers stopped their move to the doors and turned to see what was happening. "We have just received word that a fleet is massing at the edge of the system. When I have finished speaking, please walk slowly to the nearest exit. Do not push; there is no danger of imminent attack. Return to your domiciles, and await instruction from your tribal leaders. Leaders, please join the Council in the emergency meeting house. Now: walk slowly and carefully to the nearest exit." The woman finished speaking, and led the Council off the dais, through the door from which they had entered. At the same time, the guards began ushering people through the doors of the hall.

Will and Deanna kept their places within the slow flood of moving people, all talking and excitedly or fearfully; within a minute the exodus had picked up pace with quite a bit of jostling but still no all-out panic. The street outside barely contained all the people pouring out of the doors, but soon the edges of the crowd thinned and dispersed into small groups hurrying away through the city. Several blocks from the meeting hall the windows above the streets were filled with people leaning out, calling down for news, answered by walkers below.

Will pulled Deanna into the entry to a narrow alley, where he fished out his communicator. "Riker to Enterprise," he said in a low voice.

"Number One: how soon can you return? We've detected a large number -"

"We've heard. The city is preparing for an invasion. We're on our way now."

"Come as quickly as you can. I want to get us out of the system before they notice us." Enterprise had taken advantage of a nearby gas giant to shield her from Lansar-based sensors, and launched two small probes to gather her own sensor data, as proximity to the gas giant left ship-board sensors nearly blind. Deanna and Will were making use of a small shuttle to transport them to and from the planet, so they could beam out with only a moment's notice. But they needed to find a place where their transport would not be observed.

"Acknowledged. Riker out."

In unspoken agreement, the two officers moved further into the alley, which was only dimly lit by the small moon almost directly overhead. The alley turned a corner, ending in a narrow space lined with refuse bins walled by three multi-story buildings. A single door led into each of the buildings at street level. They looked up, checking for windows. There were none. Will reached for his communicator... and Deanna rammed him, hard, into the wall behind a trash bin. The dazzle and whine of a burst of laser charge briefly overwhelmed his senses. The bolt exploded into the wall behind them, showering them with shards of rock and filling the air with a rapidly expanding cloud of dust.

Will's phaser was already in hand. "Thanks," he whispered to Deanna, who was taking aim with her own phaser around the corner of the big metal bin. Will poked his head over the top, straining to see through the dust. Footsteps echoed in the small space, indicating several attackers. He ducked as a shot flared toward him, then quickly returned fire, aiming where he thought he'd heard movement.

Deanna activated her comm. "Beam us up," she called. "Get us out of here."

Only a moment later the world flared white around them. Will blinked in surprise, not certain he should believe his eyes. He turned to Deanna, crouched beside him on the shuttle craft's small transport platform. "Did you see -"

"The woman who accompanied Viden to the Council meeting," Deanna agreed, looking as shocked as he. "She dropped -"

"Onto the refuse bin just in front of us. Facing our attackers."

"From where?" Deanna asked. "The roof?"

Will and Deanna stared at each other, neither quite willing to believe the woman had dropped ten meters into the middle of a battle in a blind alley.

"What was happening down there?" asked the shuttle's pilot, Ensign Dan Rafferty.

"We were attacked. I don't know why," Will told him, looking to Deanna questioningly.

She shrugged. "It happened too fast for me to get a sense of what they were feeling," she told him.

"Can you get any sensor readings from the place you transported us from?" Will asked. "A woman?"

"Sorry Commander, we're out of range already. Captain Picard wants you back as soon as possible; we're already halfway home. Do you want me to return to the planet?"

Will chafed at the idea they might be leaving the woman in trouble, but Enterprise needed them.

"We don't even know why she was there," Deanna told him. "Surely she wouldn't have gotten into the situation without a way out?"

Will frowned. "Continue, Ensign," he called to the front, then turned to the counselor. "That was plain weird," he said emphatically. She nodded in agreement.


	9. Chapter 9

Back in the alley the two Starfleet officers had left behind, Tomas Ellmore disarmed the last of the Offworld cronies and pushed her to the wall. Tahl was right behind him.

"Why were you attacking those people?" she asked the woman pleasantly.

"Like I'm going to tell a pair of Jedi," she snarled, fear evident behind her bravado.

Tahl swung her hand in an easy gesture across her front. "You can tell us," she said. "It would be better for you to say."

"Yeah, better," the woman said, her manner more dull now. "Xanatos wanted us to take them hostage, or take them out, while he directs the attack."

"And what attack would that be?" Tahl asked, her manner still easy.

"To capture their ship. The one with all the fancy technology, that no one's ever seen before."

"And where is their ship?"

"Trying to hide behind the blue giant."

"Ah. Thank you for your help. You've done well." Tahl's voice, still gentle, took on the authority of command. "Go, now."

Tomas gave the woman a little shove, releasing her. She wandered bemusedly toward the entrance of the alley. The two Jedi returned to the back of the cul-de-sac, to the corner from which the two strangers had disappeared just as they arrived.

"A brilliant flash of white light, and they were gone," Tomas told her.

"So that's how Obi-Wan disappeared from a closed room under Qui-Gon's nose," Tahl mused. "They must have him on their ship."

"Time for us to go, before we attract more Offworld company," Tomas suggested. Tahl nodded. The two gathered the Force around them, and jumped, all the way to the roof of the building from which they had dropped into the battle, intending rescue - and an answer to why Tomas had sensed... something... about the strangers. Something important.

"At least we have some answers," Tahl told her companion. She pulled out her comlink.

"Jinn here," her friend answered her signal.

"You'd better come get us, Qui-Gon, we're in something of a hurry. We have a lead on Obi-Wan's whereabouts."

"On my way," he answered, tense with eagerness and worry.

-

All conversation in the Ten-Forward came to an abrupt halt at the signal for red alert. The Captain's voice echoed over the intercom. "Attention all crew. A fleet of vessels of unknown intent has appeared in the system. They probably have nothing to do with us, but I ask everyone to take red alert positions in case they should be hostile. Thank you." Immediately all officers and regular crew left the lounge to report to duty; civilian crew filed out more slowly, heading to their assigned emergency gathering points.

Wes Crusher searched the crowd for his young friend. To his surprise, Ben was nowhere in sight. Hadn't he just been watching a poker game from the port windowsill? Wesley headed that way, still craning his neck, searching. "Have you seen Ben?" he asked an Ensign from engineering, one with whom he had occasional animated discussions about the newest warp drive designs. She had been part of the poker game Ben was observing.

"He was here just a moment ago," she answered. "Should I gather a group to help you find him?"

"No, thanks, I'll find him," Wes told her, not wanting to delay the young engineer further. She nodded and left him.

Wes looked again at the windowsill where Ben had been sitting, and saw something was still there, something small. He went to retrieve it. It was a padd - Ben's padd. Damn. So much for being able to trace him that way. So where could his friend have gone?

-

When Will Riker and Deanna Troi stepped from the turbolift onto the bridge, they were already back in uniform; they had changed from Lansarite clothing on the shuttlecraft. Will had decided against checking in with Wes to see how Ben was doing; doubtless the two boys had enough on their minds coping with procedures for red alert. He and Deanna stepped immediately to their places, one to either side of the Captain's chair.

"Number One, Counselor: it's good you're back. We're trying to decide if we've been detected yet, or if not, if we can leave undetected. Mr. Data, status on alien fleet?"

"Still moving at point-one-four light speed, roughly toward the planet. Complement of three medium-sized ships, comparable to a Klingon bird-of-prey; one larger ship, eight smaller ships, and perhaps sixteen individual or two-person craft."

"Captain, the Lansarites are certain that it's a company of ships brought in by the Starways resort, to take over the planet," said Deanna.

"Can they mount any kind of credible defense?" Picard asked.

"They don't believe so," Will said. "They were discussing calling in help from a powerful neighbor - the 'Republic', they called it - and the Republic's agents for their Justice Department, whom they called 'Jedi'.

"We can only hope for their sake that these Jedi arrive in time to be of help, then. Even if the fleet is indeed here to threaten the planet, for the sake of the Prime Directive we need to remain here, out of anyone's sensor range, and hope our sensor probes aren't discovered."

"Warp Engines?" Will asked.

"Geordi assures me that Engineering needs at least twenty-two more hours to complete the repairs. Once that's done, we can hopefully exit the system at warp nine with no one the wiser."

"Crusher to Will Riker." The computer patched through the communication.

"Riker here. What is it, Doctor?"

"Ben's gone missing. He was with Wesley at the Ten-Forward until red alert was declared. Then Wes lost him in the rush. We think he might be in your quarters, but he won't answer."

Will felt a sinking in his gut, and tried to tell himself it was nothing serious - the boy was just frightened; maybe he feared the flotilla of ships belonged to Xanatos. The Commander looked to the Captain, who nodded. "Go ahead and look for the boy. I'll call if we need you up here. You too, Counselor, it sounds like you might be needed."

"All right, Beverly, Deanna and I are heading down to my quarters now. Thanks for letting us know. Riker out."

-

In a Jefferies tube, or service corridor, about ten decks below Will Riker's quarters, Obi-Wan sat with his guardian's padd in his lap. He had his program loaded and ready to go; he was just checking it for errors now. At the touch of a button he would be able to recalibrate Enterprise's shields and main sensor array to deflect an ion attack. Hopefully from there whomever was manning the defenses would get the idea and use his plan again.

Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes, seeking calm. Danger was near, he could sense it. Xanatos was near. And still no one on the ship guessed the dark Jedi's true intentions.

From the Ten-Forward Lounge he had made his way to Will's quarters, alone and evading anyone who might ask questions. His padd he'd left behind, minus the security component keyed to his hand readings which was already tucked in his pocket - he couldn't afford to be easily traced through the padd's locator beacon. Alone in Will's apartment, he had switched padds. But soon after he was done Wes had come looking for him. Obi-Wan did not answer, and after a few minutes Wes had gone - the doors here, unlike doors at the Temple, were kept locked by default. But Obi-Wan had a feeling his young friend would soon return. As soon as he felt the corridor outside was clear, he'd let himself out and into the Jefferies tube system - another bit of knowledge from his research with the padds that he'd been able to make use of.

Now it remained only to wait, and to hope that he was not found before the attack began.

-

"Captain. One of the vessels in the convoy is approaching a point where it could sense our presence. It's large... Half our size, and it appears to be heavily armed."

"Identify."

"Type unknown. Vessel approaching at mark oh-one-six. Coming into sensor range... now. It's broadcasting at a wide frequency, but the signal is coded. Slowing... Captain, they're hailing us."

"On screen."

Captain Picard straightened his jacket with a tug to the bottom, clasped his hands behind him, and raised his chin. The viewscreen flickered to life before him to show the face of a human male, about thirty years old: handsome, soberly dressed, with pale skin and blue eyes, and long dark hair pulled back in a thick tail. A c-shaped scar marked one cheek.

"Captain Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise," Picard announced himself.

"Greetings, Captain. I am Xanatos. I believe you have in your keeping a rather valuable item I recently... lost. A boy. I have come to claim it."

"Xanatos." Picard's voice went flat. He kept tight reign on his outrage. "It is true that one of my people found a child planetside who was in desperate need of medical attention. As the Federation does not condone slavery, I cannot consider this child to be your possession. If you know the whereabouts of his parents we will be happy to return him to their custody."

Xanatos laughed. "Your candor and ethics are admirable. However I must point out that you are acting under misguided assumptions. The object of our discussion is not a child at all. It has no parents. It was grown, not born, to my specifications."

Picard's voice deepened; his words grew terse and clipped. "However the boy may have come into being, he is human, and sentient, and deserves a sentient's rights."

"Ah. And are you willing to endanger your ship and the lives of your crew for the life of this... boy?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"Straight to the point. A man after my own heart." Xanatos' smile was eerie. "In a word, yes. But also, I am granting you a warning. You see, I am generous." He leaned back in his seat and raised his hands, pressing the fingertips together. "The human simulant you took from me is an exquisitely crafted assassin. Though it understands and will respond to human speech, though it can display emotion, it is incapable of communication with anyone but myself, and that by means of a transmitter it carries." Xanatos leaned forward conspiratorially. "You can see how effective this design is. No one would suspect a child of being dangerous."

"The very suggestion is abominable."

"Precisely why it works so well. It is a tool: with inhuman reflexes, speed, and combat abilities. Yet anyone who looks at it, even those who know its true nature, will see a child; their instinct is to protect it, not to guard against it." Xanatos tipped his head to one side, leaning back once more. "The communications transmitter cannot be removed without destroying the simulant. I can feed it instructions at long range, as well as extract data from it. It need not be awake for me to do so. And just before making contact with you I instructed it to... eliminate... any being with whom it comes into contact after one hour, if it is not returned to me within the hour. Failing that, it will self-destruct in three hours. If I have not retrieved it myself by that time, of course."

"That is the most preposterous -"

"I warn you, do not underestimate me, or the abilities of my simulant. I am sorry, Captain, but you shall have to either destroy the simulant and face my wrath, or return it to me. It is utterly loyal to me. I promise you, I take good care of it as a rule. Your crewmember found it in poor condition because it had just saved my life from a dangerous enemy. That enemy has now been terminated. Return the simulant, and forget about it. You need not endanger your crew, because the simulant does not need your protection."

Captain Picard stood silent, shocked speechless.

"You have half an hour to consider my offer, Captain. After which I will have to pursue a course which will regrettably end in considerable loss of property and lives, for both of us. I am certain you will make the right decision."

The screen blinked off.

Picard turned to Data. "Mr. Data, is that vessel still broadcasting in code?"

"No, sir, it stopped just before hailing us."

"Can you decipher the code?"

"I am already working on it, Captain." Picard imagined he heard a note of smug satisfaction in the android's voice.

"Computer. Locate the boy Ben, ward of Riker. First priority for the sensor arrays."

"Initiating search."

"Captain," Worf addressed him from the tactical station behind him, "If it is true that Ben has been communicating remotely with Xanatos, we must assume that Xanatos now has the information necessary to analyze our defenses as far as Ben has seen and understood them."

"How likely do you think it is that Xanatos's story is true?"

"Can we afford to assume it is false?"

Picard sighed gustily, angry but resigned. Worf's point was a valid one. "How much does Ben know?"

"He may understand a great deal more than we assumed, Captain. It seems half the crew has grown fond of the boy..."

"And we've given him a grand tour of the ship, as well as the same access we would grant to any of our own inquisitive youngsters."

"I take full responsibility, sir, for not following Starfleet procedure in this matter: I should have been treating him as an alien of unknown intentions."

"I am as much at fault as you in that regard, Mr. Worf."

The smooth voice of the computer cut in. "Ben ward of Riker: bioprofile found on level twelve, in the service corridor beside access ladderway 5661."

"What the devil is he doing in the Jefferies tubes?" Picard tapped his communicator. "Picard to Riker. Did you find any clues in your quarters, Commander?"

"None, Captain. What's going on?"

"We've located Ben at level twelve. Meet me at access door 5661. I'll explain there."

"Aye, sir."

"Lieutenant Worf, come with me. Mister Data, you have the bridge."

"Sir." Worf fell into step behind him, and joined him in the turbolift. The door slid shut behind them. "I have ordered the computer to seal all entryways onto the area where Ben is currently located. I have also called for reinforcements to join us at deck twelve, Captain."

"Do you think that's necessary, Worf? I don't want to frighten the boy."

"We should not take the chance that he will escape, especially given the limited time before Xanatos has said he will begin hostilities. The Jefferies tube network is extensive. We'll need extra hands to watch the exits." Worf did not add that, having seen the boy's fighting abilities, he wanted to take no chances that Ben would turn on the security crew. Starfleet procedure recommended that security officers work in pairs for any search-and-capture operation on board ship. That should be enough justification for the extra numbers to satisfy the Captain. Enough to satisfy Commander Riker, on the other hand - that he simply could not judge.


	10. Chapter 10

Will was not pleased.

"And you believe what Xanatos told you?"

The captain's voice acquired a sharp edge. "Are you suggesting, Commander, that you believe I'm going to buy our way out of this situation with the boy's life?"

"No, sir," Will answered, visibly deflated. "Of course not. I just - he could as easily be trying to hide himself from Xanatos, knowing the man is coming."

Picard stared at him. "What would you have me do differently?" he snapped.

Will sighed. "Nothing, Captain. I don't know what else you could do."

"I need you to think like my second in command, now, Will Riker, and not like a worried parent. Ben is not a normal child. We don't know what he is and we don't know what he is capable of. We will do our best to safeguard him, but in the meantime we have an entire starship crew to protect. And a warship of unknown strength breathing down our necks. Now are you my First Officer, or do I need to temporarily relieve you of duty?"

Will closed his eyes, then opened them again. "I'm sorry sir. I'm with you."

"Will, I'm sorry," Picard continued more gently. "I know you care about this boy. I don't want to hurt him or frighten him. But I also can't take the risk of leaving him free."

"Suppose locking him up is exactly what Xanatos wants us to do?"

"To what purpose?" Worf asked.

Will put his head in one hand. This felt wrong to him somehow. But he couldn't say why.

"Worf, are your people in place?" Picard asked.

"They are."

"At least let Will and I go in first, to look for Ben," Deanna asked.

Picard nodded tiredly. "Proceed."

-

In the quiet of the access tunnel where he sat waiting, Obi-Wan stirred. There was something in the Force... something had changed. He frowned, trying to decide whether and how he should adjust his plans. What was happening? He could not get a sense of the new threat. His body tingled as he extended his senses: was the effect of Xanatos' drugs once more growing? Obi-Wan hesitated, uncertain whether to go further into the Force. He feared the rush of power that had overwhelmed him in Xanatos's apartment; feared that he would once more lose control.

Finally Obi-Wan stood. He would change his position; perhaps even find a door and listen for conversations or announcements. He walked to where he knew a door led on to the twelfth deck.

The door was locked, sealed tightly closed.

He walked more briskly to the next door, ten meters along the curve of the narrow passage. His stomach fluttered. What was going on? Why would the door have been sealed?

This door, too, was locked.

Now what?

From the corridor behind him, he heard a door opening. "Ben?" Deanna's voice echoed strangely in the enclosed space.

Oh, no. Why are they looking for me so soon? Obi-Wan tried to reason through the rush of fear that tried to seize him. He wanted, more than anything, to turn tail and run. Why? What am I afraid of?

This time Will called down the corridor. Obi-Wan heard two sets of footsteps moving toward him. "Ben, where are you? We won't hurt you. We won't let Xanatos have you. Please come here."

At the sound of Will's voice Obi-Wan could no longer control his fear. He ran, swiftly and silently, for the nearest ladderway: one going up to level eleven. He told himself he needed to hide, to remain safely undiscovered until after Xanatos attacked. But he knew there was more...

When he was halfway up, the locked door he'd left behind swung open, revealing a young man in a yellow and black uniform, with a kindly face, followed closely by a woman. The man stepped to the bottom of the ladder. "Ho, there," he called. "You need to come out with us, now."

Obi-Wan kept climbing.

"Davis to Worf. He's running, sir," the man spoke into his communicator. Obi-Wan was already at the top of the ladder; he didn't hear Worf's reply.

"Ben!" Will called, coming down the corridor toward him from the next ladder over. He must have headed up when I did, Obi-Wan thought as he backed away, then turned and ran, heart in his throat. Calm down and think! he scolded himself.

That was when a phaser bolt caught him in the side from yet another opening door. Knocked senseless, Obi-Wan crashed to the floor. Why so much effort just to find me? was his last thought before he blacked out.

-

Will carried the unconscious boy out to the main corridor of Deck Eleven. Worf and Picard were already there, waiting, having taken a different stairway up. "Was this really necessary?" Will asked angrily.

"It was the only way to ensure he did not escape in the limited time available," the Klingon answered stolidly.

"He'll wake in a few minutes," Deanna reminded him quietly. "Worf used the lowest phaser setting."

"Let me search him now, Commander, before he wakes," Worf said gruffly.

Grudgingly Will set the boy on the floor of the corridor, and let Worf search his clothes. The first thing the security chief turned up was the cylinder, now enclosed and sealed, that Ben had been working on from his first day with Wes.

"What is it?" Picard asked.

"Part of a project he's been working on with Wesley," Will answered.

"But what does it do?" Worf asked.

"I don't know, it's a kid's project," Will snapped back, irritated. "He can't exactly tell me."

"I'll have Data run a scan on it," Picard said, taking it and tucking it into his jacket.

Worf pulled a padd from another pocket. "This is a command padd," he told them, checking the markings.

Will felt his gut sinking. "It's mine," he said. "But I left it locked in my desk. And I told him it wouldn't work for -"

"Maybe it does, now," Worf said, holding up the next item he'd pulled from the boy's pocket. Will recognized it as part of the padd's innards. "It's the security check module."

Worf placed the padd in Ben's hand. It blinked to life, showing a display of Enterprise's defensive functions. No one spoke for a moment.

"The security modules are supposed to be impossible to simply interchange," Will said in a strangled voice.

Picard sighed. "Mr. Worf, have Geordi look into how he accomplished it later." Worf nodded and pocketed the padd. "In the meantime, it seems to me the boy poses a serious security hazard. He'll have to be confined, at least for the time being." He looked to Will as he spoke. The Commander nodded, still feeling somewhat bewildered, but more and more he felt disappointed, even angry.

"The half hour is nearly up; I need you all on the bridge," Picard said briskly.

"Ensigns Davis and Dinarra will take Ben to the brig." The two ensigns, standing nearby, nodded. Worf rolled the boy on his stomach and cuffed his wrists behind him with binders provided by Dinarra. Then he rolled him gently back to a sitting position. "Don't undo the bindings before putting him in the cell. He's a skilled fighter; we can't risk him running right now. And don't hesitate to stun him again if necessary."

Will winced, but didn't argue. Ben was coming around. He wasn't sure he wanted to see the boy's reaction on waking, but he stayed. He wanted to see some truth in Ben's eyes: something that would make sense of his traitorous actions. He crouched before the boy, waiting. Deanna, standing behind him, put a hand on his shoulder.

The boy's lids fluttered; he wriggled in Worf's grasp, then seemed to realize he was caught. For a moment, he was still. Then slowly, he raised his eyes to Will's.

Will realized his expression was hard, angry. He let his anger show.

Ben's eyes widened, pleading; his mouth worked silently. Will hardened his heart; if anything, more furious at what he now saw as a new attempt to catch his heart. Ben's face paled and crumpled. He bent his head, drawing up his knees; his body shaking.

Will stood and turned away. He knew the others were watching - or rather, studiously not watching, helping the security crew with Ben so he could have a moment to pull himself together. He smothered his anger, taking refuge in the pressing need of duty.

Behind him, he heard Ensign Davis say quietly, "Come on now, lad, you're to come with us please." Will turned to the Captain when he heard them moving away down the corridor.

"We have five minutes to prepare for Xanatos' ultimatum," Worf informed the group as Picard led them to a turbolift.

Deanna touched Will's arm, speaking quietly. "You don't know..."

"I don't want to discuss it," he answered sharply.

They gathered in the turbolift; Picard looked to Deanna. "Counselor, did you sense any emotion in the boy at all?"

"I've never sensed any from him, Captain," she answered sadly. "But that doesn't mean he hasn't any."

-

Obi-Wan hadn't the heart to look at either of his guards on the way to the detention cells, though both were really quite solicitous. He couldn't escape Will's hurt look, his anger and disappointment at Obi-Wan's apparent betrayal. Now Obi-Wan knew the reason for his fear in the service corridors earlier: he had not wanted to see that look of hurt betrayal again. Once was too much. After Qui-Gon, he never wanted to hurt someone that way again. But it was too late. Obi-Wan's plan had failed. He felt Xanatos closing in on the ship. Chances were, Will would never understand what Obi-Wan had tried to do.

If only he had anticipated that Xanatos would try to turn the ship's crew against him! If only he had some way to defend himself! But even his new lightsaber was gone, now - he missed its weight in his jacket. The captain had it; who knew what he thought it might be.

Deep in the Engineering hull of the ship, far from the buzzing of life that filled the saucer, Obi-Wan's two guards took him from the turbolift and stopped at an open space just off the corridor. A ring of detention cells lined the walls; a single guard station occupied the center. All the cells were empty. The young man at his side, Ensign Davis, led Obi-Wan into a cell on one side; Ensign Dinarra stopped just outside.

"Do you need anything? A drink? Help with the head?" Davis nodded to the back of the cell; Obi-Wan could see a narrow door there, their version of a 'fresher. He shook his head in answer.

"All right, then; call us if you need us. We'll be right here close."

As soon as he left the cell, Ensign Dinarra keyed the pad and a blue energy wall sprang into place across the wide opening, leaving the small cell completely visible to the guard station outside, except perhaps for inside the head. Obi-Wan sank to his knees, facing away from the energy wall, ignoring the narrow cot behind him.

How could he have failed so utterly? And now not only he would suffer for it. He felt danger in the Force. How could he have let fear blind his senses? Like when he had nearly killed Qui-Gon, come to rescue him from Xanatos... Fear was of the dark side. Had he strayed so far from the Jedi path?

Master, how I need your guidance now! He called. He felt no answer.


	11. Chapter 11

Picard, Worf, Deanna Troi and Riker arrived on the bridge just as the hour was closing.

Data turned to greet them. "So far, I've had no success with the coded transmission, Captain. It would help if I could examine its effect on Ben's implant."

"No opportunity for that now, Data," Picard told him. He took Ben's cylinder from his jacket and handed it to the android. "Could you give me a quick guess as to the function of this object?"

"Right away, sir," Data agreed, and took the cylinder to a science station.

Will took his station, checking the display for a status update on Xanatos's ship and its accompanying cohort of ships. The remainder of the small fleet had arranged itself between Enterprise's hiding place and the planet Lansar.

"The construction contains a crystal and a dense power cell," Data called from the rear of the bridge. "I cannot be certain without further analysis, but the function of the crystal seems to be to focus the energy from the power cell. Additional circuitry apparently redirects the amplified energy beam back into the power cell."

"What would happen if it were activated?" Picard asked.

"I still do not understand the function of this lens-type apparatus at the end-"

"Data."

"But as far as I can tell, with one minor pre-adjustment to bring the power cell into the circuit, if you were to press this button -" he indicated a small red button on one side of the cylinder - "it would explode with enough energy to obliterate this room and probably puncture the hull."

Into the shocked silence of the bridge crew, the Captain said, "I see. Is there a quick way to disarm it?"

"None that I can see."

"I had better keep hold of it, then, Mr. Data."

"As you wish, sir," the android replied, returning the cylinder to Picard, who tucked it back into his jacket.

What other surprises did Ben have in store for them? Will wondered grimly.

Ensign Freedman, at the conn, called out, "Captain, eight small craft just appeared, and are headed this way."

"Appeared, ensign?"

"Yes sir. From a point nearby the largest vessel. There was no sign of them before ten seconds ago, though they should have been in range. The original large vessel is still hanging back."

"Cloaking devices?" Will asked.

"A large energy burst consistent with a wormhole signature appeared briefly with the ships' arrival, Captain." Data put in.

"An artificial wormhole?" Picard didn't know what to think. Too much about this encounter was unknown. "Estimated time to firing range?"

"Ten seconds: they're closing fast."

"Full shields. Can you get a lock on them, Mr. Worf?"

"With difficulty. They're small and fast. They look like one- or two-person ships, designed for dogfighting."

The bridge shuddered with the impact of energy weapons as the ships strafed them in passing, coming frighteningly close and then pulling away with impressive maneuverability.

"Damage report," Picard called out.

"Shields down two percent, sir."

"Analysis?" he called to Data.

"Not good, sir. Each hit does little in itself, but my analysis of their weapons systems indicates they can keep this up for a while. Multiply that by eight -"

"I see. And the warship?"

"Just fired up its engines, sir. It's headed this way. Several other ships of the convoy are also headed toward us, now."

The small ships came at them again, in two tight formations this time, one group to the top of the ship and the other to the bottom.

"Impulse power. Head below that warship. Mr. Worf, fire on my mark."

Data chimed in. "Sir, they're increasing power on their forward and lower shields, at the expense of their other shields."

"Fire, Mr. Worf."

The area around the warship glowed suddenly red with fire from Enterprise's main battery. "We've taken their shields for thirty percent!" Worf called out. Then bursts of light exploded from a dozen lower weapon turrets on Xanatos' ship. Enterprise shuddered; lights and monitors flickered.

"Damage report!"

"We've been hit with some sort of energy disruptor!" called Data.

"Move us out! Full impulse! Mr. Worf, fire at will! Mr. Data, can you analyze the disruptor, devise a way to counteract it?" The warship in their viewports glowed red once more on a hit from their weapons, not so brightly this time.

"I think if we change the frequency -" He was interrupted by another set of shuddering hits to their shields, and then the power flickered again and went out. Immediately emergency power kicked in, enough for lights, communications, and life support. But all other main systems were dead.

Picard tapped his communicator. "Engineering. Damage report, Mr. La Forge?"

"Nothing's broken, Captain, but nothing's working either. Our power systems are completely scrambled. It's going to take at least an hour to get back on line, and we're sitting ducks in the meantime."

"Concentrate on shields and weapons."

"Aye, sir."

"Captain, several of the smaller ships are headed for our cargo bay," Worf called.

"Take charge of defense in that sector, Mr. Worf. Initiate invasion defense procedures."

-

Will huddled alone behind a door near Engineering, taking cover from a small group of invaders headed his way. For over an hour the firefight had raged through the corridors of Enterprise. At first the battle had gone well, but now they were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Xanatos' pirates were a motley crew: some human, others furred or scaled or variously shaped. Another wave of ships had arrived after the first, these equipped with pods that secured themselves to Enterprise's hull so the occupants could cut their way in. Evidently these people had no knowledge of transporters. Will ducked into the corridor to fire on the invaders. Just as quickly he ducked back. He winced. He hadn't been quite fast enough that time. His arm was singed and his weapon slagged.

"Captain Picard to crew." The captain's voice was angry, clipped. "Our civilian crew has been taken hostage. Cease your resistance."

Will knew that order meant stop shooting, not give up: he would need to find a place to hide until he could devise a plan to win the ship back. He turned, only to come face to face with a very tall, rubbery-looking alien. The creature put the muzzle of its weapon to his chest.

"You can come with me, now," it told him. Riker could hear the crew from the hall coming up behind him. He dropped his useless weapon and put up his hands.

A short hairy alien punched his ribs. "This one killed Devert," it said menacingly.

"Boss says take them all alive," said the rubbery one.

"Not unhurt, though,"

"You want to complain to Boss, you go ahead."

The hairy one grunted.

Will was relieved that they simply cuffed his hands behind him and pushed him down the corridors, in the end, to the cargo bay on deck thirty-nine. Not gently, but he arrived in one piece. He joined a crowd of other crewmembers under guard in the center of the chamber, now completely changed from only a few hours before: filled with alien ships, alien beings, charred wreckage and scarring on the once-immaculate walls.

Picard, Worf, and Data were pushed in behind him; most of the command crew was already gathered there, Will noticed with a sinking feeling. They were pushed to the center of the room, under the invaders' guns. About half the crew had their wrists cuffed either before or behind them. Xanatos entered from a side door, arrogance in his stride.

"Why, Mr. Riker," Xanatos sneered when he saw him. "How pleasant to see you again."

"He gave us trouble, boss," the hairy alien with the grudge complained. It cracked its knuckles. "We want recompense."

"That can probably be arranged," Xanatos said thoughtfully. "Stay close." He turned to the rubbery alien, now standing beside him. "Has anyone found the boy, Cadersa?"

"Zike claims to have found him." Cadersa gestured toward a dark alien with a flat face and loose skin, who strode toward them, a boy in tow, with arms fastened behind his back. Dr. Crusher gasped. It was Wesley.

"Wrong boy," Xanatos said thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed and flicked in the doctor's direction. "Keep hold of him, though. He might be useful." Xanatos turned to the crowd of captured Enterprise crew. "Where is the boy you took from me?" he called out. "The boy who cannot speak." No one answered. Frowning, Xanatos turned to Cadersa. "Have them separate out anyone with command pins." He indicated his collar. Cadersa nodded and immediately began barking out orders to the other invaders. Xanatos watched, standing by Zike. When all the officers had been separated from the crew, under a separate guard contingent, Xanatos walked a slow circle around them, looking them over. Returning to his position by Zike, he put a hand on Wesley's shoulder.

"It would be a terrible shame," he said in a low voice, "if harm should befall this boy." He paused, then moved behind Wesley, taking hold of both his shoulders. Wesley stared ahead, looking frightened but determined. "A terrible shame." Xanatos leaned forward over Wes. "Now where is my simulant?"

For three long seconds no one spoke.

"I will find it, eventually. I will not hurt it. But this boy..."

Picard rapped out, angry, "he's in the brig. One level up."

"Thank you, Captain." Xanatos flashed a mocking smile. "Cadersa. Have the Captain and his officers lead us to the brig. Not you, boy. I want you to stay with me." Xanatos spun Wes around to follow the others, keeping one hand on his shoulder. They walked the halls to the brig, a motley collection of Starfleet crew, alien invaders bearing strange weapons, and Xanatos like a carrion bird at the rear, his black cloak billowing.

"He's here," called Cadersa from the front. "With a pair of yellow-shirt guards. Lay down your weapons!" The invader called out. "We have your Captain!" Two guards pushed Picard forward, in full view of the brig security station. Will heard the sound of weapons clattering to the floor; then he turned the corner and saw the two young Ensigns from earlier in the day - Davis and Dinarra - herded at gunpoint to join their group.

"Good," called Xanatos, pushing forward. "Keep this one for me," he said, passing Wesley to Cadersa.

Will could see Ben kneeling on the floor in the cell across from them, his hands still bound behind his back. He felt a twinge of guilt. He had promised the boy he would keep him safe from Xanatos. But did Ben want to be kept from Xanatos? So much of what he had felt he knew about Ben now seemed a sham. He even wondered if the boy had been planted for him to find; planted, Xanatos guessing that Will would take him to Enterprise, counting on Ben's youth and natural charm to shield him from suspicion of his true mission: as a spy.

Xanatos beckoned a guard to bring Picard forward. "Open this door," he commanded. When Picard had done so, he had the Captain returned to the group, and entered the cell. Ben did not move.

"Ah, my young friend, they caught up with you at last. Not even your tears moved them, I see." Xanatos knelt in front of the boy. He brushed the boy's cheek with one finger. Then he bent to whisper in the boy's ear, and for several minutes Will could hear nothing of what he said.

Finally the man reached around Ben with both hands, and somehow unclasped the cuffs that held his wrists, letting them fall to the floor. The boy's hands fell limp to his side. Xanatos pulled him to his feet; turned him and pushed him from the cell. Ben's face was completely blank: empty of expression; empty of emotion. He moved like an automaton.

"Cadersa," Xanatos called. "Have the officers take this cell. Set up one of our own energy fields in the entryway. Keep the boy out. Mr. Riker as well, I'd say." He pointed to Riker, who stopped, as the vengeful guard at his side raised its weapon threateningly, a smile on its face.

"Why? What do you want with Wesley and Will Riker?" Picard demanded.

"The boy - Wesley? - as a guarantor of your behavior. Have him secured to the guard station, here, where you can watch him," he told one of the guards - Zike. "As for Mr. Riker - some of my people have demanded satisfaction from him. I believe it's important to keep one's people happy, don't you?"

"There is no need for barbarism!"

Xanatos only smirked, and gestured for some of the guards to push Picard into the cell. Then he turned to the hairy alien, the one who had been demanding vengeance from the time Cadersa had captured Will. "You may not cause permanent damage. You will have five minutes. Mr. Riker, I don't suggest you try to resist. I'm certain young Wesley would not appreciate it."

Will heard the others cry out in protest. He tried to ignore them. He had a sinking feeling that Xanatos was deriving some perverse pleasure from their protests. He strove to remain calm, to keep his expression one of disdain. Unwillingly, his gaze flicked to Ben. The boy's blue eyes were distant, unfocused; his body utterly still, facing slightly away from him, toward the door. Xanatos noticed Will's regard; raising one fine brow at Will, he turned Ben to face the commander, to face the open space between the guard station and the now-full cell, where Hairy Vengeful and one of its buddies stood watching him, their expressions eager. Still Ben gave no indication he even knew Will was there. Somehow the sight of Ben's empty face hurt Will more that the thought of the beating he was about to receive.


	12. Chapter 12

Obi-Wan strode mechanically beside Xanatos down the hall from the brig, but while his face was impassive, his mind was in turmoil. For five long minutes and more he had watched as the two Offworlders took out all their anger on Will; forced to watch without reacting for fear that Xanatos would carry through on his threat to let his Offworld minions take Will's life if Obi-Wan so much as flinched. He knew he should not allow Xanatos to control him with threats, but the alternative was too real and too terrible to contemplate.

It had taken all Obi-Wan's strength of mind, all his long lessons in patience and control, to keep still and silent as Will struggled to keep from crying out, to keep from defending himself, or even to hide from the heavy punches and kicks of his attackers. Even when he crashed to his knees from a blow to the kidneys - even when two ribs cracked from a vicious kick - Will had remained silent and unresisting. The guards had to drag him back to the cell, finally, where Dr. Crusher immediately bent to tend him. And all Obi-Wan could do for Will was to hide inside himself, to hurt him with yet another apparent betrayal. Obi-Wan held no illusion about the effect of his silence on Will. The tall Commander had looked on him with such pain, it was nearly a physical blow to the young Padawan's senses in the Force.

And it was not over yet.

Xanatos turned into a small, empty room just down the hall from the brig, pushing Obi-Wan in ahead of him and letting the door slide shut behind them. Obi-Wan stood still in the center of the room, waiting. Xanatos paced the edge of the room, circling the boy like a hungry predator.

He had not long to wait for the pounce.

Xanatos barked a laugh. "Did you feel their anger, little Jedi? Their hatred? All aimed at us! Such power in such a simple act." He stopped, watching Obi-Wan: a malicious smile played on his lips and in the flash of his eyes. "But I forget myself," he continued slowly, "you cannot answer me." He flicked his wrist.

Obi-Wan felt a sudden rush as his mind was released, as though from a strangling net he had ceased to notice until it was gone. He coughed. "Liar," he spat out. "Don't play the charming gentleman with me. I know better. You don't forget."

"True. How very true. And I do nothing without reason." He stepped closer to Obi-Wan as he spoke, his voice low and confiding. Obi-Wan stepped away, toward the wall.

"Why are you doing this? Why force me into this role?"

Xanatos smiled and continued his slow advance. "Why indeed? Because it sows confusion and despair in the ranks of the people who took you in. They wonder if I am here, and they prisoners, because they risked their lives to defend an emotionless, thankless, half-human monster. How quickly love can turn to hatred, when the flames are fanned aright."

Obi-Wan stopped abruptly, with the wall to his back. He looked up at Xanatos, now towering over him, blue eyes glittering like shards of ice. Anger rose in his breast, cold and raging as a mountain flood in spring. With a sudden flick of his wrist, he called Xanatos' saber to his hand.

Pain exploded behind his eyes with a rain of stars, pierced the base of his neck like a knife. He fell to the floor, gasping. As quickly as it had begun, it ended. He felt his mind squeezed as though it were trapped in a vise. Xanatos still sneered down at him. The dark Jedi had activated the implant once more, imprisoning his mind and his voice. Obi-Wan burst into gut-wrenching, uncontrollable sobs.

Xanatos sank slowly to one knee before him, watching, self-satisfied as a cat with a mouse to play with. "Of course, I never have only one reason. Vengeance is sweet, Obi-Wan." With one hand he brushed the boy's face with his fingertips; Obi-Wan flinched away from him. "If you prefer, however, we can end this game. On my finest Offworld guardship I have prepared for you a sensory deprivation chamber. I cannot promise you time free of dreams or pain, but you will no longer have to look upon your once-friends here; you will no longer have to hurt them in order to protect them. My scientific crew is very much looking forward to having a strong Force-sensitive on whom to test their theories and their concoctions."

Obi-Wan shuddered in horror.

"Well then, is that your preference?"

The young Jedi shook his head. He would endure. At least here on Enterprise he had some slim chance of finding a way to thwart Xanatos.

Xanatos stood, still watching him. "You may have a few minutes to compose yourself, before I return you to the detention area."

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face with one sleeve. Xanatos' steady regard burned him, but he had no spirit left to express his anger. He took slow, ragged breaths, breath by breath returning to a semblance of self-control. When at last his tears had stopped he pushed to his feet, straightening his clothes and letting his limbs and features fall slack. Once more he followed Xanatos' lead; once more Xanatos' creature. For now.

The Enterprise crew stared at them with palpable anger and suspicion when they returned to the cell. They had good reason for their feelings, but Obi-Wan also felt Xanatos drawing on their emotions, strengthening them with the dark Force. Obi-Wan had seen the effect before, once: in the Katharsis dome on Telos, he had seen Xanatos build upon the baser emotions of the gathered crowd, enhancing their greed and bloodthirsty desire for excitement until the Dark Side swelled in power; until the normally peaceful people of that planet were ready to bet all their money on the outcomes of a dangerous and violent game. Here again, though the Enterprise officers were strong-minded people, Obi-Wan could feel the subtle effects of Xanatos' suggestions.

The officers were gathered around Will where he lay on the narrow bunk, bare to the waist and purple with bruises. His arms had been released from the binders when he was pushed into the cell. Dr. Crusher stood over him, doing what she could with what little she had: strips of cloth ripped from Will's shirt, for the most part. Obi-Wan kept his eyes unfocused in front of him. it was all he could do to keep from bursting into tears once more. He chastised himself for his lack of control. It was bad enough to have cried in front of Xanatos. To lose control here would be to invite a far worse response from the Dark Jedi than just his mocking laugh.

"My simulant will be staying with you for a while. Remember I have young Wesley as surety of your good behavior." He indicated the boy sitting on the floor, chained to the security station behind them, under the guns of alien invaders. Then he had his subordinates power down the energy wall blocking the entrance to the cell, and waited. Obi-Wan stepped inside, his heart sinking, though his face remained expressionless. After that little speech, everyone would be certain he was there to spy on them. He would have no way to convince them of his true loyalties, certainly not while he was mute. He stood by the door as the wall sprang into place behind him.

"Make certain the ship is secured, and post guards. Have the engineers transferred over." Xanatos watched as Cadersa implemented his orders.

"Tempen Vee wants to know if he can begin sorting the prisoners and transferring them to slave transports," she informed him.

"Sorting of the prisoners may begin. He may transport the new slaves once the invasion of Lansar is well established. We can spare no ships before the assault." Xanatos turned to the captain. "Time to explore my new ship," he sneered.

When Xanatos had finally gone Obi-Wan sank to the floor, legs crossed, and bent his head.

-

For a while, no one spoke. Will, for one, had no desire even to look at the boy he had fostered. As the child could not speak to them, and could not be trusted regardless, no one else felt the need to try to interact with him.

Dr. Crusher, with Picard's help, had Will sit up so she could wrap his ribs in long strips of cloth. Riker ached everywhere, but slowly his pain was subsiding. True to Xanatos' command, Hairy Vengeance and his cronies had not hurt him permanently. Will wondered why. Why keep him whole? Certainly Xanatos didn't seem to mind killing - Will knew of at least ten crewmembers already dead in the battle. No, if Will was being kept alive, it was for a reason. Because of the boy?

Will glanced at him, sitting so still by the door. He looked almost miserable. Except his back was perfectly straight. But then, he always sat straight. Oh, hell, Will thought. I've seen him frightened, and sad, and I've comforted him. I've laughed with him. It just hurts to know that none of it was real, not for him. That he meant all along to betray us. But in the back of his mind, Will couldn't help wondering: how could a bionengineered creation fake so well emotions he had never had a chance to experience?

Data gestured for the Captain and others to huddle around Will on his bench. Ben did not move from his position on the floor.

"Captain," Data said quietly - too quietly for Ben to hear, they hoped - "I would like your permission to experiment with the effect of the coded transmissions on Ben's implant. I can broadcast -"

"Are you certain you won't hurt him?" Picard asked, whispering.

"It seems unlikely, since he was unhurt by the earlier transmissions."

Picard looked to Will, questioning. Will shrugged.

"Proceed."

Dispersing to stand near the wall or to sit on the floor or bunk, the Enterprise officers waited to see what would happen. Will could almost feel the tension in the room. Worf had barely ceased pacing since they were imprisoned here; Geordi sat on the floor at the back, lost in thought. From the corner of his eye Will saw Ben stir.

The boy raised his head, slowly, and brought a hand to his throat. His eyes searched the room, finally settling on Data, who was studying him, head characteristically tilted to one side. Ben looked almost frightened, and yet... eager.

"I believe I have been successful," Data stated. "Will you not respond in kind?"

Ben's eyes crinkled in confusion. "What... respond in kind?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"You are speaking. I had expected you would respond through the implant."

"I can't -"

"Hold on a minute," Picard interrupted. "We need answers to a few questions before -"

"What's going on in there?" called one of the guards.

"I need my 'saber," Ben told Picard urgently, rising quickly to his feet.

"Your what?"

The guard was approaching rapidly. "Too late," he answered. "Just be ready."

"We can't let you -" Worf began, but the guard had already arrived, and Picard shushed him to silence.

The boy turned to face the guard. "You can let us out now," he told the woman, and moved two fingers across the space between them as he spoke.

"I'll let you out now," the guard echoed tonelessly, then bent and turned off the energy field. Immediately Ben was out of the cell; before Will could blink, it seemed, he had disarmed the woman and aimed her weapon toward Wesley.

"No!" Deanna cried.

Worf was quickest. In an instant he slammed into the boy, but too late to keep him from firing. Will's stomach lurched in the instant it took for the laser bolt to cross the room. Luck was with them. It slammed into the alien guard there, knocking her senseless just as she was pulling out her weapon.

Worf had a phaser in hand before she hit the floor, pulled from some hiding place in his uniform. He wrenched the weapon from Ben, pointing it back at the boy, and used his phaser to down another guard in the time Will and the others took to exit the cell. Picard was first to the downed guard. He took her weapon and covered Wesley. Deanna, Geordi, Ensign Davis, and Beverly found cover behind the security station while they looked for weapons. Data zipped across the room with android speed and disarmed a third guard. Worf handed the weapon he had taken from Ben to Will, then crossed the room himself to cover Wes and the captain.

Will kept his weapon trained on Ben. The boy made no effort to move. In moments the fight was over. With quick efficiency Worf and the two ensigns searched all of the fallen guards, going first to those still living to relieve them of their communication devices. Hairy Vengeance had fallen near to Will; glancing over Will saw the alien pull a communicator from his pocket. Quickly Will stepped over and kicked the device from its hand.

In those few seconds Ben left the cell, running toward Wesley. Dr. Crusher reached Wes's side first. Worf intercepted Ben, swinging him around by one arm to face him. Will went to join them. Was the boy even now attempting to carry out Xanatos' orders?

"I would prefer you to remain within my reach," Worf growled. "I don't know what you are, or what you think you're doing -"

"I would never hurt Wesley!" Ben exclaimed. Will was startled hearing his voice again; it had lost most of its huskiness: a sweet, clear, almost melodic boy's soprano, lilting in tone and precise in diction, as expressive and open as Ben's young face. "I would never hurt any of you!"

Data activated the brig's force field; they heard its hum as it sprang up, behind them this time. Enterprise's officers gathered around the boy, looking variously wary, curious, and grim. Wesley, too, joined the circle: he leaned against his mother's supporting arm, his expression anxious.

Worf twisted Ben's arm behind the boy's back, positioning Ben in front of him. "Captain, we haven't much time. If Ben has informed Xanatos -"

Ben looked shocked. "I've told him nothing!"

"We detected coded transmissions to and from Xanatos's ship when he first arrived in the system," said Data, "and we traced them to you."

"Decoys," Ben answered, "to get you to believe whatever story he concocted. I transmitted nothing."

"Xanatos claimed he didn't need the boy's conscious cooperation to get information from him," Worf reminded the captain. "Whether Ben is lying or merely a tool, we cannot leave him free: he's too dangerous."

"I'm not lying and I'm not mistaken," Ben clenched his fists in frustration, but Worf kept a steady grip on his arm.

"At least there have been no transmissions since Xanatos left us, possibly because of my interference," Data put in, his tone reasonable as always.

"Whatever Xanatos told you, the purpose was to turn you against me, so you would keep me helpless. I tell you, I'm not working for him, unwitting or willing! I am not his slave or his creature. Please," his voice turned pleading. "Let me help fight him. I know these people, I know their weapons and their tactics. I can help." Ben looked to Will, his eyes hopeful, but the commander gave no response: he kept his expression cool and crossed his arms. A look of pain creased the boy's features. Almost Will relented. Almost.

"Sir," Worf said, "it can't be long before Xanatos will discover what has happened here. We can leave Ensigns Davis and Dinarra to bluff with the communicators for as long as they can, but we should also make a plan to free the crew, and to liberate the ship."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Worf. We'll leave Davis and Dinarra as you suggested."

The two ensigns nodded. "Find us more weapons," Worf instructed them.

"Mr. Worf," the Captain continued. "You will lead a team to the upper decks to free the civilian captives. Take Dr. Crusher and Mr. Data. The rest of us will work on regaining control of the ship. We'll begin at the cargo transporter bay. Mr. Worf, you will join us as soon as you've freed and secured the hostages."

"What about me?" Wes asked. "I can help Geordi."

Picard looked to Dr. Crusher, who bit her lip and nodded.

"All right, Wesley," the Captain answered. "But you will follow my orders," he added. "No heroics."

"No heroics," Wes agreed.

"And what about me?" Ben asked in a subdued voice.

"I think we should leave him in one of the cells here," Worf said.

"No!" the boy begged, looking horrified. He turned to Picard. "You don't know that I'm working against you," he pleaded.

"True," Picard nodded. "Perhaps we should take him with us. With precautions," he added when Worf looked as though he might object.

"I won't do anything," Ben said earnestly.

"Bring a pair of wrist cuffs," Worf ordered Ensign Dinarra. She brought some from the guard station. Worf cuffed Ben's free hand first, then brought it back to join the other.

Ben looked up at the Klingon towering over him. "I won't be able to climb ladders with my hands bound behind me," he quietly pointed out. The security chief grimaced and released the arm he'd been holding. Ben brought both hands quietly together in front of him. He waited unmoving as Worf snapped the cuff on his second wrist.

"All right," Picard said, sounding less than satisfied. "It's time to move out. We'll use the emergency ladders and maintenance routes. Number One, you take the rear." Picard led the way to the maintenance access down the hall from the brig. All was clear in the narrow passage. Seven officers and two boys passed through, allowing the door to slide shut behind them. The passage stretched to either side, dimly lit from glowlights near the floor. The wall markings indicating position and directions to the major junctions were difficult to read with only emergency lighting, but they wouldn't take the risk of lighting a hand-lamp. Such a light would be all too easy to see from the main corridors, with the ship lights dimmed. They waited for their eyes to adjust, then strung out single file behind the captain: there wasn't room to walk two abreast.

Ben walked just ahead of Will as they followed the captain through the door of the cargo transporter room. There the two groups would separate; Worf and Data and Dr. Crusher on a route that would take them over the Matter/Antimatter reaction column that spanned twelve decks vertically, then up to the saucer module; the rest of them doing what they could at the transporter room workstations, then continuing on to engineering if necessary. Will couldn't help noticing that the boy walked as surely as any of them, and a good deal more quietly. "So what else don't we know about you?" he asked quietly as they gathered, at last, in the quiet of the powered-down transporter room. Ben looked around to flash him a tentative, impish smile.

Not again. You can't try charm on me now, Will thought bitterly.

The boy's smile vanished, replaced by a look of alarm. He slammed into Will, knocking him painfully to the wall, straining his injured ribs. Angrily Will shoved the boy away. The high whistle of an energy weapon discharge rang in his ears; the bright flash of a laser caught Ben in the chest where Will had pushed him, twisting the boy and throwing him to the deck. A black sphere flashed above Will, darting and hovering two meters above the floor, just before it burst into flame from a phaser bolt. The remains clattered to the deck in a hail of sparks and hiss of cooling metal.

Will sank to the boy's side. Ben groaned and rolled to his stomach; pushed himself up on his bound hands and sat against the wall, curled over his injury. Will clumsily tried to help him rise. He felt sick. At least the boy was alive. He didn't feel he could bear it if he had just caused Ben's death. He tried to push the boy's arms down, and his head up, so he could examine the injury.

"Don't," Ben whispered, his voice shaking. "It's all right. It's not that bad."

Good lord, was the child crying?

"I'm sorry, Ben," Will said awkwardly. "Truly."

"It's all right, Will. I understand."

"Let me help, okay?"

"It just scratched me. I'm all right, really."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Dr. Crusher, pushing in beside Will. Quickly the boy rubbed his face with his sleeve and submitted to the doctor's professional touch. He still wouldn't look at Will, but kept his eyes focused firmly on the deck.

"What was that thing?" asked Deanna. She watched with Picard from the workstations nearby; she and the captain were guarding Geordi and Wes as they worked. Data stepped over the still-burning sphere, and both he and Worf bent to examine it.

"It's a probe droid," Ben answered in a low voice. "If we're very lucky it won't have reported our presence before it was destroyed."

"Then we will operate under the assumption that it did," Worf said dryly. He pulled his phaser from his pocket. Data's, Will noticed, was still in hand. "How will the invaders respond?"

"Someone will probably come to investigate. Or they'll send more droids."

"Is the boy all right, Doctor?" Picard asked.

"His wound is shallow, thankfully. Painful, but not life-threatening, so long as it's cared for. Another inch to the left would have been much worse. I've done the best I can for it." The wound was red and raw, Will saw: bare of skin and bubbling in a hand-shaped swath: it was coated with salve from the emergency medical supplies the doctor had grabbed before they left the brig. He watched her quickly cover it with a section of synthetic skin. Ben released a long, slow breath; then he let her help him to his feet.

"Time for you to go on, Worf," ordered the captain. "Stay alert, everyone."

"Captain," said Data, "Before we go I would like to know why Ben's implant sent a data burst shortly before the probe droid arrived."

Everyone looked at Ben, who paled. "I didn't -"

"If he is sending signals to Xanatos or probe droids, then it is not safe for you to keep him with you," Worf said.

"Is there any possibility, Ben," Picard asked slowly and deliberately, "that we are being tracked by means of your implant?"

"I don't know," he whispered, looking frightened. "It's possible."

The moments before the probe droid struck replayed themselves in Will's memory. Heaviness settled in the pit of his stomach. "How did you know, Ben, that the probe droid was coming? How did you know to push me away?"

Ben sank against the wall behind him, as if somehow his legs were now to weak to hold him.

"I ask," Will said, and now his words were edged with accusation, "because when you pushed me, you were looking in nearly the opposite direction from which the probe was coming."

Ben closed his eyes. "What could I possibly say that you would believe? You've already judged me guilty of - what? Calling it here? Using it to set up a fake rescue?"

"The truth would be nice, for once."

"I've never lied to you, Will." The boy looked up earnestly, directly into his eyes. "I stole your padd. But I never lied, not once, not even when I was silent." But Will did not believe him. He gazed back, angry, until Ben closed his eyes once more, with a look of terrible hurt.

"Stop evading the question, Ben." Captain Picard's voice was hard.

"I felt it in the Force."

"Through the implant, you mean?" Picard asked.

"No. I can -"

"Someone is approaching through the port corridor," Data announced. "At least fifteen beings, wearing all manner of foot gear."

Worf stepped to the door, and sealed it closed. "We can't keep him, and we can't leave him," the Klingon said firmly. "And this door won't hold five minutes against a determined entry."

"We can send him to Lansar's surface," Geordi announced from his workstation. "We're just within range now. Give me two minutes to calibrate it for human transport."

"But -" Wes protested suddenly.

"You can what - ?" Ben asked at the same moment.

They heard the pounding of energy weapons striking the closed door, slowly at first, then increasing in frequency.

"That's not much better than killing him," Deanna protested. "Where will you send him? To the middle of the desert, to die of thirst? Or to the city, where he's wanted as an escaped slave?"

"It's that or go back to Xanatos," Picard said, looking directly at Ben.

"Lansar," the boy said quickly.

The door grew red.

"Quickly," Worf warned.

"On the platform, then," Picard told Ben. "Somewhere close to a settlement, Geordi."

"Three miles out from Starways?"

"That's fine," Ben answered. He climbed the platform, and stood in the center of a large glowing circle, meant for cargo transport. "Will someone -" he began, raising his bound hands.

Picard turned toward him.

"I have a cutter," Wesley called out, and ran onto the circle with the small tool in hand.

At that moment, the door blew open. The concussion threw Worf back several feet.

At the same time, Ben's cylindrical device flew from Picard's pocket across the platform toward Ben's hands.

"No!" called Will and Deanna simultaneously. They both ran to the circle. Deanna crossed the cylinder's path and blocked it. It clattered to the floor and rolled behind the platform.

Laser fire criss-crossed the room, and Geordi ducked - in time to miss the beam that sailed over his head, but still in the path of another that struck the back of his chair. He fell forward against the console.

The transporter energized.

Will caught a last glimpse of the chaos, frozen, washed out: and then they were in the desert. Deanna, Wesley, Ben and himself.


	13. Chapter 13

Obi-Wan felt a moment of disorientation. Then he was standing in sunlight, with sand under his feet. Red sand. A wall of rock curved behind him, blocking the view in that direction. He stood still a moment, overcome by awe: they knew how to do instantaneous travel! Then he saw them: Will, lips pursed tight, radiating fury. Deanna, anxious for all of them. And Wesley, not knowing what to do with himself, far from the ship where he was comfortable. Wes looked at him, and winced. Obi-Wan sensed confusion, suspicion, and hurt. Wes didn't know what to make of him either.

Their distrust pounded him. Obi-Wan stepped back against the rock, where there was some slight shadow, and sank to the ground, legs crossed. His side ached where the probe droid had hit him. More than that, his heart ached: with his failure to stop Xanatos; with the hurt of people he cared about.

"Were you going to set your toy to explode and kill us all once you'd left?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer. He rested his head against the rock behind him and closed his eyes.. He could think of nothing to say. If Will could believe such things of him, what could he say?

"Riker to LaForge. Riker to Enterprise -"

"Geordi never got the comm up, Will. We have to wait for them to call us."

"I can't believe we're stuck down here."

"Look, perhaps it's for the best. We can call for help."

"To whom?"

"To the Republic Viden spoke of at the meeting. To the Jedi. He said they always come -"

She broke off suddenly. Obi-Wan realized she was staring at Will. And Will - Will was staring at him. Obi-Wan had lifted his head when she mentioned the Jedi. Oh, to be home -! But why was Will staring at him, with such a look of mingled grief and loathing?

Softly but distinctly, Will told him, "I wish to God I had never seen you."

Obi-Wan sat motionless, stricken. I have to go. I have to leave them, he thought over and over, but he did not move, could not move.

"Well I, at least, am glad that you have brought him here. Drop your weapons. You're surrounded."

Obi-Wan lurched to his feet, craning his neck for the source of the voice. He found it, at the end of a long arm projecting over the rock, an arm holding a blaster rifle aimed at Will. An arm belonging to...

Sitaris.

He ran, heedless of direction. Heedless of thought, knowing only his own need - to escape. A tall man ran toward him from the side. He lurched away. Another - Light help me, I'm surrounded. And then he was caught, plucked off the ground by a pair of brawny arms. He squirmed, almost freeing himself. He kicked, connecting with bone, and heard a yelp of pain. First one foot, then the other, was caught by more strong arms. His boots were pulled from his feet. Still he struggled.

Calm down and think, he told himself. Feel. What happened to your training?

Slowly he calmed his racing heart and steadied his breathing. He relaxed into the trainer's hold. For they were all, he realized, trainers: or most of them, at least. He recognized them from the arena.

Sitaris stood by Will and the others now, who were themselves surrounded, and disarmed. As his captors approached, carrying him, the other trainers pushed Will and Deanna and Wes ahead, toward the rock. Into the rock. Coming up behind them, Obi-Wan saw that what looked to be solid stone in the shadow of the wall above, was actually an opening, disguised with a holographic projection. Cool air brushed his face. Inside all was dark to his sun-struck eyes. They descended a long, twisting flight of stairs. The bottom opened into a series of small caves, lit from the sides. Their footsteps echoed strangely as they walked through. And then the space opened into a wide chamber.

Here the light was brighter; some sunshine filtered down from high above. All around the edges of the cavern were tents, and a generator, and small folding tables. At the center, the space was clear: a large open circle. In the spaced by a large tent near the cavern wall, the trainers carrying Obi-Wan set him down on his feet. But they did not let go his arms.

"What are you going to do with us?" Asked Deanna calmly, bravely.

"What were you doing outside our camp?" Sitaris returned.

"We did not know it was your camp. Xanatos has taken control of our ship. We ourselves are stranded here, unable to return to help liberate her. We had hoped to find help. We would settle for our freedom."

"As we do not know for certain your intentions, we cannot allow you to go at this time. We, ourselves, are under attack from Xanatos' people, the Offworlders. And you are offworlders -"

"We told you we are enemies of Xanatos," Will said coolly.

"Xanatos is a master of lies. I should know: I worked for him for a time." At this, Sitaris turned to Obi-Wan. "For Xanatos's violations of bonder law, the Council granted you should be removed from his custody. For his crimes against me, they granted your term of bondage should be transferred to me-"

"Sitaris, please, no -"

"- save if a master with a prior claim should come for you."

"Qui-Gon is my master," Obi-Wan said in quiet desperation.

"Qui-Gon is dead, boy," Sitaris told him gently.

"No -" Suddenly Obi-Wan found it difficult to breathe.

"I am sorry. I sent my friends to find him, after Xanatos took you both captive. All that day they saw him in the thickest fighting, searching for you. Several saw him fall, finally, with grievous wounds. They saw him surrounded by the enemy. It is true that afterwards we could not find him. But all these past days we have looked for him, unsuccessfully. I fear he is dead."

"He can't be dead. He can't -" Obi-Wan sagged against the arms that held him. He was surprised to find his vision blurry, his eyes wet. Sitaris loomed before him, and tilted up his chin. "I want to go home - please Sitaris - I don't belong here -" Obi-Wan felt cold metal circle his neck.

"No!" he cried. For a moment he thought he heard an echoing shout. Then there was only ominous silence: all Obi-Wan could hear was the soft click of the collar as it closed about him. For a moment more Sitaris held his face.

"I will do my best by you," the trainer said. "That I promise. You may have an hour to grieve. Then we will hold the rituals. Kadric, you have a tool to cut these rings from his hands?"

A man wearing a heavy leather jerkin, with bare, muscular brown arms came forward with a vibroknife. He worked quickly. The cuffs fell into his hands, severed. Obi-Wan stared at them, numb. From prisoner to slave - he winced away from thought of Will, of his angry words, of the friends he'd made and lost all in the space of a few short days. If only they had never found him! Had they never taken him from Qui-Gon with their transport technology, he might be safe at his master's side even now! The thought was too painful to bear. He shut it out.

"The offworlder garments, as well?" asked Kadric.

"Yes, and I should inspect his wound."

Obi-Wan barely heard the men speak. Kadric pulled shirt and jacket off him, jostling his injured side in the process. He's as gentle as Sitaris, Obi-Wan thought bitterly, and winced at Sitaris's rough probing fingers on the laser wound he'd received from the probe droid. Sitaris changed the dressing, applying fresh salve. Kadric pulled off the remainder of his clothes then, leaving Obi-Wan shivering with more than cold. And still he felt distant, empty.

Finally, at a nod from Sitaris, the trainers holding Obi-Wan lowered him gently to the ground. He knelt there, hands loose in his lap, staring into space.

"Do not move from this place, bonder," said Sitaris. "I have set the perimeter. I do not want to find you paralyzed when I return. You have one hour to remember your past life and former master, before your new life begins."

Remember... Your new life... The words echoed in Obi-Wan's mind. He watched the trainers leave him. Then he closed his eyes, lightheaded, chest aching, barely able to breathe.

Memory came to him, unbidden: Qui-Gon crouching beside him at the Temple, waiting patiently for Obi-Wan's panic at news of Bant's capture by Xanatos to pass.

Something inside him broke.

Qui-Gon can't be dead. I need him.


	14. Chapter 14

Will sat at a small table with Deanna and Wesley, a mug of tepid water before him. A young slave boy, younger than Ben, had brought them the water jar and mugs, and left as silently as he came. It was a bitter reminder of what Will had gone through, just to save one child. He glanced at Ben, still kneeling motionless on the packed dirt floor of the cavern. The boy's face was stained with tears. He, too, had been brought water, but he had not touched it.

Sitaris had told them that, until their loyalties were proven one way or the other, they may have freedom within the cavern: so long as they respected private spaces and other areas that were guarded and off-limits. They had been given a small tent, pallets and blankets. If any one of them tried to escape, they would all be killed: no second chances, the trainer assured them. They were a hard people, these Lansarites, all of them survivors of bondage, and keepers of bonders in turn.

Deanna sat with her head held in her hands. Wes looked haggard and oppressed himself. He kept stealing glances at Ben. Finally he stirred. "Do you think it would be okay if..." he began, his eyes vague on the table, "...if I went to him? He looks so sad..."

Will said nothing. He wanted nothing more to do with the boy.

Deanna lifted her head. "He's hurting terribly. I can feel him now. It's like there was a wall around his thoughts, but when Sitaris - put that collar on him, it crumbled away. I sense a mind within that's as orderly, as disciplined as any Vulcan's. But the grief is pure human."

"Grief, because his former master is dead? Or because he failed to move Sitaris with his tears?" Will asked.

"For both those reasons. But also because of us."

"Because he betrayed us?" Will asked, "or because he failed to destroy us?"

Wesley and Deanna both looked at Will in shock. "Do you really think -" Wesley began.

"No," Deanna cut in. "I never was certain he betrayed us. I still don't think he did so, at least not willingly."

"Making a bomb isn't enough for you?"

"Can't you stop and think, Will, instead of lashing out like a hurt child? Maybe there's some other explanation for what he's done."

Will took a deep breath, suddenly ashamed of his outburst. "I'm sorry, Deanna. I'll try. Just don't ask me to go to him."

"I don't think you should," said Deanna. "I think you're already breaking his heart."

They sat in silence for a while longer.

"Should I go -" Wes finally asked once more.

"No, Wesley," Deanna answered gently. "Not now. The hour Sitaris granted him is nearly up. Later, I hope, there will be time."

A moment later Sitaris came to Ben, and stood before him, waiting. The boy rose smoothly, silently to his feet. He made no move to wipe his face. He stood straight and stiff, his eyes slightly lowered and unfocused. No more begging, Will thought. He knows it's pointless, now. But where only a short hour ago Will would have seen the boy's silence as lack of feeling, as inhumanity, now he saw the silence of determination, in a boy with all the pride of a captive lion.

Sitaris handed Ben a small brown bundle. A long strip of leather, or cloth, he saw - the boy shook it out and wrapped it around his waist and between his thighs. Will sighed. At least they would not require him to walk naked before the crowd, gathering now at the center of the cavern. When Sitaris turned, Ben followed.

Will stood to join them. He had to see what the child was condemned to. He felt grief rise in him, unbidden, at the sight of the boy, burned below the shoulder, feet bare on the hard dirt, unbroken even now. And he felt a stab of guilt, finally, for the words he had used to cut the boy. Deanna was right. Ben was not unfeeling - how could he have ever believed Xanatos? Whatever his reasons, whatever his motives, the boy did not deserve this fate.

And all Will could do for him now, again, was watch while others stole his life for their own use.

Will was surprised when Deanna and Wesley both joined him, to stand at the outskirts of the circle. Wesley bore himself with grim determination. But Deanna wore a look of pity. What did she sense from the boy now?

-

Past hundreds of watching eyes, young and old, free and slave, Obi-Wan walked unflinching. He shut them out, shut them all out. He needed serenity for this trial. He would accept what must be borne, for as long as it was necessary. Even if he never left this planet again, never saw the Temple again, he would honor Qui-Gon's memory, his teaching. When Sitaris stopped and turned to face him at the center of the cavern, at the center of the circle of watching trainers and their families, Obi-Wan stopped as well. A fire burned in a portable brazier behind Sitaris, Obi-Wan saw. A bowl of water stood on a rock pedestal beside him. The low murmur of voices around them ceased, leaving only silence.

"The desert is harsh," Sitaris announced, pitching his voice to carry to all the crowd. "Only the strong survive. We have not water enough for the weak.

"Today I take this boy as my bonder. I will make him strong. I will teach him the ways of the desert. I will give him water, until the day he is released a free man, sixteen years from this day: a strong man, ready to join his tribe, ready to provide for them and defend them.

"Bonder, you must serve me and obey me. You must abide by our laws of bondage until your day of freedom. You will bear no name, for the gods do not see you. You must not touch a free person, unless so bidden, for you drink not your own water. You must keep your eyes downcast, until you have served your term of humility. You must not speak unless bidden to do so, for you have not the ear of the gods. Your feet must go bare upon the earth, until you have learned her ways. You may not wear sewn garments, until the dignity of the gods-chosen is yours to bear. Your new life begins now."

Sitaris turned and took the bowl from the pedestal beside him, and drank a long draught. "From now until your day of freedom," He continued finally, "My water is yours." Then he dipped his hand within, wetting his fingers, and reaching across the space between them, brushed Obi-Wan's lips with the moist tips.

A long sigh escaped the crowd. Then everyone was up, moving, talking, heading back to their tents or their work, the silent slaves among them. Sitaris stepped closer to Obi-Wan, still holding the bowl. He wet one hand, again, and this time washed clean the tracks of tears from Obi-Wan's face.

"You did not drink earlier, bonder. Will you accept my water now?" He held out the bowl to Obi-Wan. The young Jedi stood, considering a moment, his feelings conflicted. But he could feel Sitaris' straightforward concern. He took the bowl in two hands, and drank.

Sitaris took it back from him when it was empty. "You will come to your place by my tent, now, and eat. And then I will find you work to do: there is more than enough, here, for all of us."

-

"What is he feeling now?" Will asked Deanna. Together, they and Wesley watched Ben follow Sitaris to a large tent not far from the one they had been given.

"Quiet, resigned despair."

Will sighed, and turned away. "I can't undo what's done." He felt empty. Where had his rage fled to?

"No," she agreed, "you can't. You can only decide what to do next."

"What should we do, now?" Wesley asked them.

Will looked around at the busy people bustling in the cavern. "Find our way around. Understand how things work, here."

"Find a way to help," Deanna said. "These people are not evil, no more than any other. They need us, and we need to gain their trust."

Will looked at her, then nodded agreement.

"Sitaris is coming," she told him. She turned to face the man striding toward them. Others deferred to him, Will saw. He was dressed simply: undyed tunic and trousers, a leather belt. But he wore leadership like a mantle.

"Will you share the midday meal with me?" he asked. "I should like to know more of your people, and Xatatos' move against your ship."

Will looked to Deanna for guidance. She nodded. She trusted the man's intent.

"Will you also tell us something of your situation here?" Will asked.

"I will." He continued speaking while he led them back to his tent, to the table set just outside the door. "Only this morning we raided the Starways resorts once more, and came away with weapons and other equipment that may be of use. Starways is no longer well guarded. We are hoping they will soon decide it best to cut their losses and leave, but we fear it is a vain hope." He indicated his three guests should take seats before him. Beyond the table, crouched against the wall of the cavern, Ben was just finishing a bar of mixed grains, and a mug of water. Sitaris gestured to the boy, who came to them. "Fetch water and food for four from the red-roofed tent." The boy took off at a run. Sitaris continued with his narrative. "Indeed, we were surprised when the Offworld fleet arriving in our system attacked, not our planet, but a ship we had never even known was there."

"Our ship," said Deanna.

"You were hiding from us," Sitaris said mildly.

"We are strangers in this system."

"And so you thought to keep from attracting attention. Unfortunately for you, Offworld found you - and found you to be of interest."

"What is 'Offworld'?" asked Wesley.

"An interplanetary mining corporation," Sitaris answered, "infamous for its environmentally destructive methods. Only in the last few days have we learned that Starways is a front company for Offworld, and that Xanatos is a leader in the company - perhaps even the sole owner. He has been conducting a great deal of his business from here. Why has he taken your ship?"

"Some of our technology," Will answered, "is very different from yours. But he has not 'taken' Enterprise: the fight has not ended."

"How do you know?" Sitaris asked.

"We don't know, not for certain," Deanna answered. "Two hours ago, we had word that the battle was continuing. Knowing our shipmates, I agree with Will that the fight goes on."

At that point, Ben arrived with a tray of fruit, meat, and grain cakes; he balanced a jug of water on one slim shoulder. Leaning past Sitaris, he laid both upon the table. Mugs and plates were already set there, waiting.

"Serve us," Sitaris ordered quietly when the boy started to withdraw. Will felt a stab of anger. Was the man being deliberately cruel, to flaunt Ben's status before people he knew? Deanna caught Will's eye and shook her head in warning. He leaned back in his chair, seething. Ben flinched away from him, nearly dropping the mug and plate at his place in his hurry to move on. Deanna glanced sharply at the boy, then looked away carelessly, but Will knew that look: she was studying him empathically. Ben set a place for Wesley, quickly, who wouldn't look up for embarrassment. He moved on to Deanna. She laid a hand upon his, briefly, as he finished. He paused, just as briefly, before continuing. But his movements now seemed calmer, surer. Will looked to Deanna. Her eyes were hooded, deep in thought.

Finished with the dishes, Ben reached for the water jug, but Sitaris stopped him. "I will serve the water. Rest in your place until I call you again." The boy nodded, once, and left to sit, cross-legged, in his place by the cavern wall. Sitaris watched him go, his features impassive. Then he stood, and, taking up the jug, poured for each of his guests in turn, himself last. Finally he took up the tray, and passed it to Deanna. "Take what you wish," he said, "and pass the tray." He leaned back in his seat, eyes half-lidded and hands folded in front of him as if praying. But when Wesley stole a glance back at Ben after he took his food, the man spoke. "The bonder has eaten before us, Wesley of Enterprise. That is our way, here in the desert. You need not worry for his welfare."

Reluctantly Wesley turned back. "But Ben always seems to be hungry -"

"A bonder has no name." Sitaris pinned Wesley with a glare. "Do not violate our laws by giving him one - especially not in his presence."

Wesley looked at the man in nervous defiance.

"Your ways are strange to us, Sitaris," said Deanna. "We keep no slaves."

"Before Starways," Sitaris answered her, "there were no slaves on Lansar. Only bonders. Starways corrupted our traditions, and now many of our people, especially city people, treat their bonders as property: as slaves. A true guardian of a bonder puts his bonder's welfare above his own: my bonder will eat, and drink, and receive medicine before me in times of shortage. To do otherwise would mean my own dishonor."

"That is not a philosophy we heard expressed at the Council meeting in the city yesterday," Deanna said.

"Mine is likely a minority view, and one I came to only recently," Sitaris answered. "But it is a view shared by every person in this camp."

"Most slave-keepers at least allow their slaves to have names," Will challenged.

"A bonder will take a name on his day of freedom," Sitaris said. "I do not expect you to understand our ways, but for as long as you are with us, you will keep them."

"We will," said Deanna with a sharp look to Will and Wesley. Both nodded reluctant acceptance.

"Eat," commanded Sitaris. They ate in strained silence. When all had finished Sitaris drank a full mug of water, and pushed his plate aside. "Clear the table," he called to Ben. The boy jumped to his feet and collected the dishes, piling them atop the now-empty tray; balanced the tray on one hand and took the jug with the other, then ran to the red-topped tent once more.

"So Xanatos believes that having control of your ship will give him some advantage," the man guessed without preamble once Ben had gone. "Is he correct?"

"If he can control her," Will answered, "which is doubtful, at least in the near future."

"But if he does learn to control your ship?"

"He could become far more dangerous," Will admitted.

"An outcome to be prevented," Sitaris said. "You said earlier you were hoping to find help? There is little help on Lansar to be found - few Lansarites own starships, and all of those have already been put into service to protect our cities."

"Someone mentioned at the council meeting yesterday that the Jedi might come if they were called upon," said Deanna.

"The Jedi," Sitaris mused. "The near-legendary Order of warriors. If all I've heard of them can be believed, then they could help. If they could be convinced to come."

"Do you know how to reach them?" Will asked.

"You would need a HoloNet transponder," Sitaris answered. "One that could reach Coruscant, at the core. We have nothing here that could transmit messages so far. But there are some in the city. The Council of Elders controls one, and Starways had several."

"Will you permit us to -"

"Not alone," Sitaris answered, "and not now."

"But time is short!" Will argued.

"Patience, outlander. I, too, have a people to protect. As I told you earlier, we only just finished a raid on Starways. It is not safe now to have people traveling on the desert with Offworld searching for us. And I still do not know if you can be trusted not to give us away. Tomorrow will have to be soon enough. Give us time to scout a new target. Then perhaps one of you may come with us."

"Tomorrow," Will echoed.

"It will have to do," Deanna said. "I promise, we will not betray your people."

At that point, Ben returned. "You may rest now, if you wish, in your tent," Sitaris said as he stood. "Honor to you." He turned to Ben. "Come with me, now."


	15. Chapter 15

It was a relief to leave Will and Wesley behind. Wes was uncomfortable in his presence, and Will - Will was perpetually angry. And so Obi-Wan was almost content to follow Sitaris to a smaller cave at the far end of the cavern from where they had entered that morning. There a half dozen men and women, most of whom he did not recognize, were sorting through piles of outdated and damaged equipment, trying to find something worth salvaging. He and Sitaris threaded their way to the opening at the far end, where Obi-Wan saw still more people, some of them older slaves, carrying still more machinery in from somewhere else.

"We just finished a raid this morning on Starways," Sitaris explained. "You will help to carry this equipment inside, and help us move it once it's sorted. I'll show you the way to the sled." So saying, he led Obi-Wan out through another network of branching caves and tunnels, leading ever upward, until they reached a repulsorlift tube. They arrived just as a load came down in the lift. "Carry the machines back to the sorting room," Sitaris instructed. Then he walked to one side, to talk with a tall woman who had just come down with the new load. Obi-Wan shouldered a battered hovercam. He could see a small hoversled in the pile, missing two of its stabilizers and a power cell. He wondered if he should point it out. The work would go more quickly with its help, and it would not take long to fix. Sitaris glanced over at him then, lips pursed, perhaps wondering why he dawdled. Obi-Wan decided to hold his tongue. He was forbidden, after all, to show initiative, and he had been given clear and explicit instructions. He grimaced in frustration.

By his third trip back to the sorting room, Sitaris was already there, working with the others to identify useful parts and pieces. As one of the most experienced with offworlder technology, Sitaris's opinion was in demand; but he knew little more than the others, Obi-Wan had seen. Setting down his burden - half a protocol droid - he was surprised to see Wesley standing by the door, speaking with Sitaris and some others. Wesley glanced over at him; he dropped his eyes quickly and turned to go.

"Wait, boy," Sitaris called. "Come here." Obi-Wan stopped, and returned to the man who claimed him. Stood waiting, a little stiffly, at his side. He did not want to feel Wesley's eyes upon him. He felt intensely his near-nudity, with the other boy there.

"Wesley, here, says you have skill with machines. He says that, with your help, he could make much of this equipment usable. Is this true?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered quietly.

"Then you will do so. Focus on the weapons first; we have need of them."

Obi-Wan nodded, and moved to the table of already-discarded weapons. It was scattered with all manner of blasters, rifles, and vibroblades, in various states of uselessness.

"Can I ask him questions, and have him explain things to me?" he heard Wesley ask behind him. "I'm good with machines, too, but I don't know this particular technology, and he does."

"You may ask." Sitaris called to Obi-Wan. "Bonder, you must explain as necessary to getting the work done. Understand?"

Obi-Wan half-turned to face him. "I understand," he answered. He watched Sitaris leave through the far door.

Wesley came to stand beside him at the table, watching as he sorted through the weapons, pulling out those that looked most easily salvageable. Wesley picked up a small blaster from the pile, and turned it over in his hands. "It looks okay," he said.

Obi-Wan held out a hand, and Wesley dropped the blaster into it. Obi-Wan pointed to one part after another. "Power cell. Actuator. Trigger. Scope. Emitter. The emitter is slagged. We can salvage one from here." He pulled another blaster from the pile, this one all but useless, but with a hopefully still-functional emitter. "Use the spinner to open it, here and here." Obi-Wan took a tool from the edge of the table, and showed Wesley what he meant. Then he put the blaster on the table in front of the other boy. "When you think it's fixed you can test it with the blast chamber." He pointed to a large black box at the side of the table. Then he went back to sorting, now with an eye for the different kinds of weapons, and ones that could be used for parts.

For several more hours they worked, Wesley asking questions, Obi-Wan explaining as concisely as he could. After a while they settled into a rhythm. As Wesley learned what he was dealing with, he was able to identify weapons with problems similar to ones he had already fixed. But he still ran into difficulties.

"It still doesn't work," Wes complained to Obi-Wan after what must have been the tenth test for a rifle in the blast chamber. "I traced the problem to this part. Can I replace it?"

"You could, but the problem is more likely to be back here -" for several minutes Obi-Wan explained the workings and basic physics of phase inductor assemblies.

"Thanks," Wes mumbled finally, absorbed in what Obi-Wan had shown him. For the next fifteen minutes he focused on the delicate task of replacing the old assembly and aligning a new one. Obi-Wan didn't bother watching him; he knew Wesley could probably handle the difficult task. The boy had a steady hand with technology of any kind, and a careful mind.

"Ow!" Wesley cried out, and put his fingers in his mouth. "I left the power cell in. That was stupid of me. I hope I didn't ruin it."

Obi-Wan looked into the blaster rifle's exposed innards. "you'll need a new inductor assembly," he answered, then turned back to his own task.

"Joy," Wes muttered, and fished through the pile of parts-only weapons for a likely candidate. Finding one, he settled back to his task.

"Ben," Wesley said very quietly, not looking up from his work, "I have to tell you - I'm sorry, I really am, for all that's happened. I don't know what Xanatos did up there, but -" he paused, and Obi-Wan could tell he was upset, groping for words. He focused down on his own task, wishing Wesley would stop. He knew Wesley felt awful about his situation. He didn't want the boy's pity. He didn't want a reminder of a friendship he couldn't have, not now.

"I should have stood up for you. I should have talked to you. I still don't understand - what came over us all. I felt frozen, and angry, and confused. I don't know why. God, I've been such an awful friend," he said. He stopped, and wiped his eyes, sniffling.

Obi-Wan sighed. His friend needed an answer, this once. "It's not your fault, Wesley," he said quietly. "That's how Xanatos operates. He twists people's feelings, and uses them. Please don't blame yourself."

"Can you forgive me?" the boy pleaded, looking directly at Obi-Wan now, his eyes begging.

"Of course," Obi-Wan answered. "There's nothing to forgive." He turned to hold Wesley's eyes, for the briefest of moments, and brushed his hand, so his friend would know he spoke the truth. Then he returned his attention to his work.

"Bonder." Obi-Wan froze. Sitaris must be standing just behind him. Why hadn't he noticed? Fatigue, and emotional weariness...

"List for me the prohibitions you just violated," came the cool and even voice.

"Please, sir," said Wesley quickly, "It's my fault. I begged him for an answer."

"I was not speaking to you, young offworlder," said Sitaris evenly. "Keep silent, or leave, or I will have you removed."

Wesley swallowed audibly and stood silent, looking anxious.

Obi-Wan put down the tool he was holding, and placed his palms flat upon the table. "I must not speak unless bidden. I must not lift my gaze to a free person. I must not touch a free person unless bidden to do so."

"Walk ahead of me to your place by my tent. There take position for your punishment."

Leave, Wesley, Obi-Wan begged silently as he did what he was told. But he could feel the boy following. He saw Wesley standing a few meters away, hand covering his mouth, when he lowered himself to kneeling on the dirt beside Sitaris' tent. He saw Deanna and Will join the boy, saw them ask what was going on. Stars and galaxies, please leave, all of you.

Sitaris stepped from his tent with a long, flexsteel whip. Obi-Wan relaxed his body and breathed deeply, preparing himself.

"Two strikes for each violation. You may count if you wish. Cry out if you feel the need."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Go away, please, he begged his erstwhile friends. Then the whip bit into the soft, only recently healed skin of his back. One, he thought. He refused to make any outward reaction. He felt intensely Wesley's horror, and Will's outrage. Two. He clenched his fists, and released them with a breath of air. Three. Sitaris was no more gentle with him this time than the last time he had beaten him thus. Four. A loud gasp escaped him, despite his intentions. He fell forward onto his hands. Five. He bit his lip on a scream. Six. He gasped, a tiny squeak, and sank forward to lay his head on his hands. He saw drops of blood, there, and felt his lip wet where he'd bitten through. His back raged fire.

"One half hour for contemplation. You will stay silent and isolate, or face further punishment." This comment, Obi-Wan could feel, was made at least partly for the benefit of the three lost and angry Enterprise crew. He could sense them still standing nearby, flanked by a pair of trainers. He ignored them, knowing there was nothing he could do for them. After a few minutes he forced himself to a sitting position, cross-legged, and pushed his mind into meditation. He was too exhausted for even a shallow healing trance.

-

"I told you both we should have left," said Deanna in a low voice, pulling angrily on Will's arm. "He didn't want us to see this, and we can't help. Now let's leave him alone, before we make the situation worse."

Will glared at the trainer who had ostentatiously placed himself in front of them, making it clear that their interference would not be tolerated. The man stared back disdainfully. Wesley was on the verge of tears. At Deanna's words he turned and walked quickly to their tent. Will, however, was not going to budge. He waited for Sitaris to come out of his tent, having returned his whip, and followed him toward the equipment-sorting caves. Deanna strode behind, exasperated.

"That was cruel," Will said when he caught up with the man.

"Was it? The boy knows the rules, and he knew what punishment would be given if they were broken. I agree that it was harsh, but that is our way." Sitaris stopped, suddenly, and turned to face Will. "I saw an instance of cruelty just this morning. Taking a boy who obviously cares about you, and cutting him with words. Making him feel like you don't think he deserves to exist. That I call cruel." He turned and strode away without a backward glance.

Will stood rooted to the spot. Then, just as sharply as Sitaris had done, he turned on his heel and strode back to their tent. Deanna stood watching him a moment, then, sighing, followed.

"He's right," Will told her when she arrived. He had seated himself on his pallet, elbows on knees, chin on folded hands. Wesley lay on his own pallet, face turned to the wall of the tent. "Dear God, what is wrong with me? I need a slave owner to point out when I've been cruel to a child."

"Well, for one thing," Deanna said, sinking onto her own pallet, "we're all exhausted. We left the ship at late evening as we mark time, to arrive in the early morning here. A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours."

"That's no excuse, Deanna. You know it as well as I do."

Wesley spoke up, voice quiet and throaty, now looking up at the roof of the small tent. "Ben told me something a little while ago. He was punished for telling me. I told him I felt I had been an awful friend since the invasion. That I didn't know what had come over me, that I felt confused and unable to act. He said -" Here Wes paused, as if looking for the exact words. "'It's not your fault. That's how Xanatos operates. He twists people's feelings, and uses them. Please don't blame yourself.' God, how I wish - I begged him to forgive me, because I felt so awful. And he did. And I got him -" He clapped a hand over his mouth again, and turned away.

Deanna shifted to sit by his head, and put a hand on his shoulder. "He gave you a gift, Wesley. Focus on that."

Will stayed silent. Xanatos wasn't directing me what to say, he thought, I did that. After a while he pulled off his boots and lay down. But sleep didn't come to him for a long while.

Late that night, Will woke, suddenly. He saw through the walls of the tent that the cavern was quiet and dark around them. He looked around, wondering what had disturbed him. The tent flap swung with a slight movement, as though someone had recently passed through. He sat up. Deanna's bed was empty. He waited a moment, listening. Then he pulled on his boots and crept to the opening. He peered out.

Across the way, in the soft ambient light of dim lamps high along the cavern wall, he saw the flap of Sitaris's tent pulled open. Deanna exited, her form clearly outlined in the soft light from inside. She turned, holding the flap, still talking through the door. Then she dropped the flap. She walked to the open space by the stone wall, where Ben had been beaten the day before. He lay there, now, Will saw: stretched out upon the bare ground. A long chain fastened his collar to a ring sunk deep into the wall. He sat up as she approached. She sat beside him.


	16. Chapter 16

Unable to sleep, Obi-Wan had seen Deanna go to Sitaris. He had watched her leave the tent, and come toward him; he wondered at her intent.

"Sitaris said I may speak with you a while, in my capacity as a counselor," she said. "Is that all right with you?"

Obi-Wan nodded and sat up, crossing his legs and drawing his rough blanket around himself. She sat beside him.

"I've promised not to ask you of your past, or to permit you to speak of it; and I've promised not to lead you into breaking any of the Mozelle bonder laws," she continued, looking down, tracing a pattern in the dirt. "But I thought you might like to talk about what's happened the last few days. I sense you're distressed in your mind, about more than just being made Sitaris' bonder. Is that so?"

Obi-Wan nodded. He folded his hands lightly in his lap. His fingers were still brown from his days in the desert sun, training with Sitaris.

"Tell me about it?"

Now that she'd asked, that he was finally free to speak, Obi-Wan wasn't certain where to begin. "There's several things... Wesley, for one. I don't want him to grieve for me. He... he blames himself for what's happened."

"It's true he feels guilt for his part in what's happened. But those are his feelings, not yours. He's coming to terms with what he's done."

Obi-Wan felt a surge of rebellion at that. It was true, Wesley's feelings were not his responsibility. But he was so near, and his thoughts always turned to Obi-Wan, it seemed, these last twelve hours. And the power in him steadily growing, it seemed... The young Jedi was having enough difficulty controlling his own emotions; it was hard to screen out Wesley's as well. "It seems to me he's only been beating himself up about it all night."

Deanna seemed to be eyeing him sideways, now: studying him. "What do you mean?" she asked after a moment. "How do you know?"

Now they came to the crux of his problems. But would she believe him? Somehow he trusted her. "I can feel him," he said softly. "I can sense his emotions. It's difficult not to, with his thoughts turned to me all the time."

Beside him he heard Deanna release a long breath. "You are an empath," she said.

"I have empathic abilities," he corrected.

"So do I."

Almost he looked up at her. But he remembered in time, and kept his eyes down. He never would have guessed she was Force-sensitive. Perhaps she was not, and this was some other ability.

"It's how I know you've been awake all night. I sense you feel... tormented by something. Is Will troubling you, also? He's hardly slept tonight, either, for being so angry with himself for what he said to you."

"Is he? All I can sense is his anger, and his thinking about me."

"Yes." She spoke decisively. "Trust me. I don't think he's ever felt worse about something he's done, not in all the time I've known him."

That was hardly better, knowing he was the cause of feeling Will's angry recriminations. It still hurt. Obi-Wan's sense of Will and Wesley in the Living Force pounded at his consciousness. Almost he had withdrawn, at that touch, instead of opening to the Force in his meditation that night. But there was something else he sensed, something he had to know...

"What else is troubling you? I sense fear. Dread."

For a moment Obi-Wan was silent, reliving that dread "I don't know how to explain," he said finally.

"Try," she said, inviting him to continue. Open to understanding him in a way that none of the others had been.

Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force once more. A hundred possible futures flashed through his mind, all of them violent, none clear enough to understand. He flinched, then focused on breathing, on calm. "I can't. I don't understand it myself. Just... danger coming. Violence."

"Coming? You can sense this?"

He nodded.

"When? How?"

"I don't know!" he moaned. "I feel so helpless." He was surprised at himself for that admission. He had not realized it until he said it. It was a frightening feeling.

She put an arm around his shoulder and drew him close, inviting him to lean against him. He stiffened. "It's all right," she said. He relaxed a little, and let his head fall to her shoulder. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to tell Sitaris about your feelings, about your being an empath and sensing the future. I think he should know. He cares about you, you know."

Obi-Wan stiffened, then forced himself to think beyond his gut response. Master Yoda was always reminding him to look beyond the obvious, especially when dealing with people. "I know he cares," He said at last. He sighed. "He's compassionate in his own way. He's just limited by a narrow set of experiences, a narrow perspective. How can I blame him?"

"That's a very mature attitude," Deanna said softly. Obi-Wan didn't answer. He was feeling homesick again.

Deanna stirred. "May I tell him about you, then?"

"Tell him, if you think it would do any good. But not about my danger sense. There's nothing really to tell. I don't want him to think... well, anyway, just don't." He sighed again. All his body had felt tense as a drawn bowcaster; now, with his mind somewhat eased, he was starting to feel his exhaustion. He yawned.

"Try to sleep," Deanna told him. She kissed his head, then eased him back to the ground, helping him to wrap the blanket tightly around his body. "Good night."

He smiled, faintly, in thanks, and closed his eyes.

-

From his position by the door-flap of their own tent, Will watched Deanna kiss Ben and tuck the blanket around the boy. Then she left, returning not toward their tent as he'd expected, but back to Sitaris. She stood a moment by the opening; a hand reached out and pushed the flap open, and she ducked inside. Will watched a moment longer, indecisive; then silently stepped outside and followed.

He raised a hand to knock on the tent post by the door-flap, but stopped when he heard voices speaking inside.

"He's not like any child you've ever known, Sitaris," said Deanna.

"That I've noticed," Sitaris answered wryly. Will heard liquid pouring, as into a cup.

"More than that. He's an empath. Do your people know this ability?"

"An ability to sense the thoughts of others?"

"To sense the feelings of others. Sometimes to experience them so intensely, they are almost like your own. I am an empath. I've suspected something of this ability in the boy for several days now."

"And now you're certain."

"He told me of his own accord, when I asked why he was so troubled. His distress when you punished him yesterday was acute: not just because of the pain, which was bad enough, but because he sensed your reluctance, and Wesley's guilt and horror, and Will's anger."

A pause; Will heard a glass being lifted and returned to a table.

"So his punishment was twice a punishment?"

"Indeed. And I fear what would happen, if you continue to deal with him as you always have: will he become inured to the pain of others? Will he become apathetic?"

Sitaris sighed. "When I managed him in the Starways arena, I wondered at his quickly growing apathy: he moved, most of the time, like all the world was pain, that he could not hide from. He seemed to mourn the passing of our time in the desert. Now I think I understand some part of what was happening. The arena must have been overwhelming to his senses."

"The Palace was bad enough, the two times I visited; and I have training and experience in blocking out the emotions of others. He is only a child."

"Thank you for informing me -"

"The boy cares about you, Sitaris. He cares what you think."

"After all, he knows what I feel, eh?"

"That's part of it."

Will felt the silence of the cavern, the stillness, as of a giant presence holding its breath, waiting.

"I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Deanna. You have given me much to consider."

Will heard the two rise to their feet, within. As if waking from a trance, he realized he was eavesdropping, and soon to be discovered. Quickly and quietly, he walked back to their own tent. He pulled off his boots, and lay down on his pallet, pulling the blanket over him.

A minute later, Deanna walked in. She sat on her pallet, thinking quietly. Then Will realized she was watching him. He stirred.

"You were listening," she accused him.

"I hadn't meant to, Deanna. I'm sorry." He watched her as she removed her shoes. "Was it true, what you told him?" he asked softly.

"Every word."

He was silent for a while, considering. He felt torn. "We might be able to leave, tomorrow," he said finally. "But -"

"You don't want to abandon him again."

He laughed softly, sadly. "I'm insane, aren't I? What's wrong with me, Deanna?"

"You know he's unhappy here. You feel it's your fault. You want to find a way to make amends."

"I suppose." He lay still on his pallet. Deanna lay down.

After a while, he spoke again. "I can't think how to get him away while he's wearing that collar."

He was startled to hear Wesley speak from the corner. "I still have the cutter in my pocket," the boy said quietly.

"I wonder if he would want us to take him again?" he asked, softly, not expecting an answer.

-

In the dim light of a rising dawn Will rose and left the tent. He had gotten little sleep. By the cavern wall he saw Obi-Wan standing, wrapped loosely in his blanket, staring up at the carved and mechanically supported roof of the great stone room. When Sitaris exited his own tent, walking to the boy with a bundle of cloth, Ben dropped his eyes.

"He looks almost frightened," Will told Deanna as she stepped out beside him.

"He is frightened," she answered.

Exchanging a worried glance, both walked toward the boy and master.

Then Ben looked up, straight past Sitaris. "The lookouts are dead," he said with quiet intensity.

Sitaris dropped his bundle. He grabbed Ben with both arms, and shook him. "What are you doing, boy?"

"You've got to believe me - the enemy will be here in minutes!" Ben's voice rose in pitch and volume with every word.

"What am I to do with you?" Sitaris asked, disgusted.

"I don't care what you do with me. Just call them, check on them!"

Just then Kadric approached from the cavern entrance at a dead run, and skidded to a halt in front of Sitaris. "The guard change reports that they just found our lookouts dead, and the shield generator damaged! There are enemy craft on the horizon, not five minutes away!"

Sitaris stared at Kadric. "How did you know?" he asked, turning back to Ben.

The boy shrugged helplessly. "I felt it," he whispered.

Sitaris let go the boy. He strode purposefully to his tent.

"He knew?" Kadric asked Will.

"He told Sitaris just before you did," Will confirmed.

They were interrupted by Sitaris's voice, amplified to echo throughout the cavern. "Attention: we are under attack. Attention: we are under attack."

From all the corners of the cavern, the folk of the camp poured out of their tents. Wesley, too, came to join them. Will took the opportunity to pull on his boots. He had nothing else to gather. He waited for Sitaris. If they would not allow him to fight, he was leaving. Deanna went to Ben, followed closely by Wes, and put a comforting arm around the boy, shivering in his blanket, still chained to the wall.

Sitaris continued with orders: "Drenda will organize the retreat of non-combatants. All non-combatants must gather water, food, and medicines and retreat to the cave of the underground pool. Kadric will assign positions above and distribute the weapons. Prepare yourselves, everyone, and quickly! Now, go!"

The crowd scattered, everyone moving purposefully, most for their own tents. Kadric gathered the fighters around him and shouted orders. Those who were already dressed and armed were sent immediately to the surface.

Sitaris reappeared from his tent with a rifle slung over his shoulder, and a large cloth sack in his hand. Will stepped forward. "Sitaris, I want to fight -"

"Here are your weapons," Sitaris spoke over his demand. "I hope you will stay and help defend us. We have escape routes through the caverns, but if they've mapped the exits, we'll have difficulty getting out." He glanced toward Ben and Deanna.

"We'll stay and fight."

"Good." The man strode on toward Ben. One-handed he unfastened the chain from the boy's neck.

Kadric came up behind them "Sitaris, Rittern reports that there are many small vehicles approaching from the west and the south - sloops, he thinks, and speeder bikes."

"Heavier firepower than most of our arms, but they could have sent worse. They still might. How long to repair the shield generator?"

Kadric shrugged helplessly. "I'm told it doesn't look too bad..."

Sitaris turned to Ben. "Could you fix it?" he asked.

"Possibly," the boy answered, looking anxious. "Help would make it faster."

"I'll help," Wesley volunteered.

"Wes -" Will, began, unsure whether he should permit the boy to join the action on the surface.

"I'm staying," declared Wesley.

With a frown, Will nodded. It was probably best they stay close together, after all.

"Look out!" Ben suddenly shouted. There was a great cracking, rumbling sound from overhead. Ben jumped forward. He shouldered Kadric to one side, and barreled into Sitaris, who fell to the ground, the boy atop him. A pair of boulders crashed to the floor where the two men had been standing. Several more fell into the tents around them. Will looked up. There was a great hole, now, open to daylight, where before had been the ceiling of the cavern. Something small and loud streaked across the blue sky beyond.

Ben tried to scramble quickly off Sitaris, but the man seized his arm. "You just saved my life, boy: and might have saved the lives of many others in the camp. How could I find the will to punish you?" Sitaris rolled to his feet, pulling Ben up with him.

"This is an omen, Sitaris," said Kadric. "The gods speak through your bonder."

"But an omen for what fate?"

"For our doom, perhaps: but also, I think, a chance for our redemption."

Engines whined above; laser bolts sang.

"Past time we left," Sitaris said. Together the small group crossed the cavern.


	17. Chapter 17

Crouched in a small niche at the side of the stairwell, Obi-Wan examined the damaged shield generator. Wesley perched half on the stairs beside him.

"Even if we get it fixed, the shield will only last eight or ten hours," Obi-Wan told the older boy. "The power cells were worn down even before it was damaged this morning. And it will only provide limited coverage: enough to keep the cavern from collapsing any further; enough to protect the stairs from damage."

"If it protects our retreat, that's good enough for me," Wes said. "I have a feeling we're going to need it."

"We'll need a few parts from the sorting room below. Can you get them?" He rattled off a short list.

"On my way," Wes cried, already jumping down the stairs two at a time. An explosion somewhere overhead shook the rock walls; pebbles and debris rained down. Obi-Wan ducked and waited for the dust to clear. Then he picked up the multitool he'd brought with him and set to work. Ten minutes later Wesley puffed back up the stairs, carrying a large crate filled to the brim with tools and equipment. He set it on the landing by the generator niche. Both boys were soon absorbed with their task.

Neither noticed Kadric until he spoke, close by Obi-Wan's ear. "If you can't finish soon, it won't be worth finishing. We're sorely outgunned."

Obi-Wan didn't pause. "One more adjustment," he said.

"I'm done here," Wes said, finishing.

With a nod, Obi-Wan tapped in the sequence to set the generator power. They listened to it hum slowly, shakily to life. A blue, shimmering barrier stretched from the machine, following the guide channels, over their heads. It gave cover to the stair, without blocking it.

"Good work," Kadric nodded. He handed each of the boys a weapon. "You may need these, if any probes get through: stay here and guard the generator. The weapons you repaired for us yesterday are what's enabled us to hold out this long, but if we don't have an answer soon to Sitaris' signal for help, we'll all be heading down." So saying, Kadric took the stairs two at a time back to the surface.

When Kadric was gone and Obi-Wan was certain they were once more alone, Obi-Wan spoke quietly, not looking at Wes. "I noticed a portable force field in the sorting room yesterday. I think it only needed its guide channel spliced."

"A force field would be a great help for guarding the generator," Wesley said, catching on. "Why don't you get it?"

Obi-Wan nodded, and barreled down the stairs.

Ten minutes later Obi-Wan ran up the stairs even faster, if possible, than he had gone down. He dropped the portable force field, newly fixed, at Wesley's feet.

"What is it?" Wes asked, catching Obi-Wan's urgency and helping him to stretch out the guide channels.

"They're in trouble," Obi-Wan gasped. "I think they're trapped."

"Will and Deanna?" Wes prompted.

Obi-Wan nodded. "And Sitaris. I have to go help them."

Wesley switched on the energy wall. "I'm going with you."

"It's not safe," Obi-Wan protested. He looked up, straight at Wesley.

Wesley held his eyes and grinned. "No kidding," he agreed.

Obi-Wan breathed out slowly. He was worried his friend would not be able to handle a combat situation. But he could feel Wesley's determination. Pulling out his blaster, he nodded. Then he ran up the stairs, two at a time, Wes right behind him.

-

The top of the stair dazzled them with light scattered by thick dust. The sun was up. They found themselves in the midst of tumbled boulders, the top of a huge formation that stretched easily ten meters above the ground, five meters ahead, and all around as far as they could see. A narrow path wound to left and right amongst the rocks. To the right they could hear blaster fire and the whine of engines.

"This way," Obi-Wan said, taking the left path. He crouched to better hide behind the rocks, and scanned the sky with his blaster half-raised. Behind him Wesley followed his lead. Obi-Wan heard his breathing quicken with fear and adrenaline.

Blaster marks scored the stone; in many places still smoking. Fresh shards littered their path. They cut Obi-Wan's bare feet, but he kept moving. Just off the path beside them, they found a trainer lying dead, a crumpled bloody heap amongst the rocks. His weapon had already been salvaged. Wesley shuddered, and Obi-Wan flinched away. The sun shone bright overhead.

When they reached an overhang, just large enough to cover them both, Obi-Wan stopped his friend with a gesture. He heard an engine rumbling closer. He pressed himself flat against the rock, and peered around the edge. Two sloops zoomed toward them. As they closed on the tumbled rock formation that sheltered the underground camp, they split apart. One came at the Lansarites' camp from the south, slowed, fired twice, and stopped above the rock formation about fifteen meters away, aiming at a point that was shielded from their sight by a large rock slide. The other circled almost directly over the boys' heads from the north and stopped just above the rock slide, facing the first sloop.

"Don't tell me," Wes whispered. "They're behind the rock slide."

"I'm afraid so," Obi-Wan answered.

Obi-Wan took careful aim at the front sloop's steering plates, and fired. The impact of the blast threw the rider off. The second sloop soared instantly from its hover, directly towards them. Obi-Wan fired again. Nothing happened. He dropped his blaster and twisted, throwing himself and Wesley down behind the cover of the overhang. Behind them he heard shots, and an explosion. The sloop sheared the rock above their heads and smashed into the stone only meters behind them. The impact sent a rain of debris, stinging and bruising Obi-Wan's skin, to bury them in their hiding place.

"Ben -" came Wesley's muffled voice.

"Sorry, Wes, I thought I would get that one -" Obi Wan pushed at the rocks and metal shards beside them, sending them rattling down the slope of the path, a small cascade. Bright light filtered through the small opening, and air.

Wesley breathed in sharply, then began to laugh. "You rescue the adults, shield me from an explosion, and apologize for a faulty blaster. Either you're a superhuman or an overconfident idiot with more luck than sense."

Chuckling ruefully, Obi-Wan continued to push away debris. "Far too much the latter, I'm afraid."

"They're here!" they heard Deanna say, voice muffled through the shifting of piled rock. The sound increased as more debris was pushed away.

"Who?" asked Will.

"The two boys -" she answered. In a few minutes a large space was cleared at the top of the overhang, and Sitaris and Will reached down to pull Obi-Wan free. They passed him to Kadric, standing beside them on the path. Then they went back for Wesley. Both coughed with the dust stirred up; both were coated gray with pulverized rock.

"You idiots!" Will raged. "What are you doing up here?" Sitaris turned Obi-Wan, brushing him off, his face grave. Wesley was staring at him, Obi-Wan found, looking horrified. Then Sitaris lifted Obi-Wan to his shoulder and started walking, toward the stairs they'd left behind. Beside them, Obi-Wan saw Will push Wesley ahead of him. Kadric followed them both. Distant but approaching, he heard the sound of more sloops, and blaster fire.

"Answer Will Riker's question," Sitaris ordered.

"I sensed you were in trouble," Obi-Wan answered. "I came to help." He squirmed a little, wanting to be set back on his feet. "I can walk -"

Sitaris's hold tightened. "You are hurt. The skin of your feet, not to mention your arms and back, is badly torn, with shards of rock and metal embedded in it. I fear you may be suffering from mild shock. Can you not feel the pain of your wounds?"

Now that Sitaris mentioned it, Obi-Wan felt the throbbing of his feet and sting in his skin that adrenaline and focus had shielded from his conscious mind. "Yes, sir," he answered, subdued. "I can feel it now." With both arms he clung to the man's broad shoulders, knowing he must be a heavy burden, but thankful now to be carried.

"You have endangered yourself and Wesley needlessly."

"But -"

"It is true that your shot was well timed, and helped us. But we could have escaped for ourselves. Kadric was already on his way. You are reckless, boy. You need guidance, from one strong enough to teach you discipline."

Obi-Wan didn't respond. As with Wesley, he recognized the truth of Sitaris's words. Even the Jedi Council had said as much, when they put him on probation. He cringed, shamed, suddenly thankful he could hide his burning face in Sitaris's rough tunic.

"They've come," said Kadric suddenly. The man was staring at the sky, shielding his eyes with one hand. "The Elders have sent help."

"Just in time," Sitaris answered. Kadric pulled out his blaster and pressed against the shielding stone beside them, looking over.

"I'll join you when I may," Sitaris told him as he ducked into the stairwell.

"Honor to you, Sitaris. May we come to you first, victory in hand."

-

Deep under stone and sand, low caves glittered in the light of glowrods and cool lamps. Scattered into small groups, the displaced Lansarites crouched or sat on humps of stone that had never felt the touch of human skin. Will, Deanna, and Wesley sat near the wall of one of the farther caverns, waiting, as everyone waited: scouts had been sent to investigate the various exit points, and they would have no news from the battle above until runners returned: this network of caves had been sealed against sensor scans, blocking the exchange of messages.

A short distance away, Ben lay face-down on the cave floor, wrapped in a blanket, sleeping. Wesley had told Will how Ben had been frantic to reach them on the surface, having sensed they were endangered. Will was still bewildered at the risk they had taken.

"It must be a terrible gift," Deanna said in answer to his feelings. "Sensing in advance what is going to happen, what might happen…"

"But taking Wesley above that way - what good did he think he could accomplish?"

"He didn't take me," Wesley insisted. "He told me not to come. I followed him anyway."

"Why?" Will asked.

"I don't know. I guess - I felt I had to do something. If you had been killed -" Wesley bit his lip. "And also I couldn't let Ben risk himself alone. He's younger than I am, smaller, a slave - if anyone needs protection and help, it's him." Wes snorted. "And he threw himself on top of me. Some help I was… I came through without a scratch, and he's hurt again."

"You can't help what he does, Wesley. He has quick reflexes…" said Deanna.

"He's the strangest kid I've ever known," Wesley said. "I can't decide if he's heroic or plain crazy."

"He has powerful talents," Deanna said. "He needs someone who can understand him, who can help him learn control."

"Betazoid practices would help him," said Will.

"Maybe," Deanna answered. "Though I still think he's been trained already in such arts."

"What do we do next?" Wesley asked.

"We need to get out of these caves," Will answered, "and back to Enterprise. As soon as we know which way to take."

"And Ben?"

"Following the Prime Directive," said Deanna, "means we should leave him here."

"I don't want to leave him," said Wesley quietly. Will put a hand on his shoulder.

They heard the sound of running feet from the empty passage behind them, and stood to see the runner enter.

"We've won the battle," said the tall, thin man who stopped, panting, at the arched entrance to their cave. "We are all to go to the main cavern. The Elders have sent a representative to speak to us. Male and female, free and bonded alike, he said."

Talk broke out at once, and the rattling of equipment being packed and shifted. A tall woman went to the control panel on the wall near the Enterprise crewmembers, and shut power to the sensor block. She pulled a communicator from the pocket of her long, loose dress. "Drenda to Sitaris."

"Sitaris here."

"I'd like confirmation on the orders Vitalit conveyed."

"You're to bring everyone to the main cavern at once. Viden is here from the Council of Elders to speak to us."

"We'll be there shortly. Drenda out. Sorry, Vitalit," she said to the tall runner.

"No apologies necessary; I'd have done the same."

Will followed Deanna and Wesley to where Ben lay, waking.

"You're to join everyone going up," Deanna told him. Ben nodded, and rose to his feet, wincing.

"Hold on," said Deanna. She tore strips from his blanket to wrap his feet. Will watched the Lansarites streaming past, wending their way out and up through the narrow passage, around stalagmites and strange bulging formations of slow-growing stone.

"Should we go with them?" Will asked softly, "Or try one of the other passages?" He turned to look at Ben.

"It's Viden come to speak, Will," Deanna pointed out.

The boy paused a long moment, also watching people pass. "I trust Sitaris," he said finally, just as softly. He followed the last of the walkers from the room, Deanna beside him, Wes close behind, looking anxious. Frowning, Will joined them, wishing he felt Ben and Deanna's certainty.


	18. Chapter 18

Though they arrived last and late, Obi-Wan was not content to remain at the rear of the cavern. He slipped around the edge of the crowd, working his way toward Sitaris, the remains of the blanket around his shoulders. The deep tunnels and caves had been cold. Deanna paced him, a comforting presence at his side. She, at least, was beginning to understand him. The others followed behind.

Dust hung thick in the cavern where the Lansarites had made their home. Most of the tents had collapsed, buried in rubble. Yet the sun shone bright in a blue sky over their heads. Rays of light pierced the dust like beams through a cloud, illuminating the listening faces of free and bonder alike. The trainer Viden's deep voice, strong with certainty, carried to all corners of the cavern. Lansarites stood or perched upon fallen boulders, silent in the ruin of their camp. "… and we have called for allies for the aid of those stronger than we: the Republic, and the Jedi. The Jedi, in their wisdom, have already answered our call, and with their help, we defeat Starways upon the ground and in the air alike.

"But there is a price for their aid, a price which may be painful for some of us, yet which I believe - and the Elders and tribal leaders in their wisdom agree - will be a step toward maturity for our people, our planet, our way of life. We are to end the practice of bondage as we know it."

The silence of the cavern was complete.

"Though bonder and master may yet enter into the traditional contract, they must now do so of their own free will, with the freedom of both parties to exit the relationship guaranteed. Only the best masters will continue! My people, our day of freedom is at hand!"

Quiet muttering answered this pronouncement, and dubious looks from the scattered bonders. Obi-Wan held his breath. He felt the confusion of the Lansarites - mingled hope, anxiety - they felt cast adrift, torn from the only way of life they knew. It was a feeling Obi-Wan empathized with, he had felt it himself so often of late.

Obi-Wan wended his way to the front of the crowd: and saw Sitaris, standing close near Viden, Kadric beside him. Sitaris's eyes scanned the crowd. His gaze reached Obi-Wan, and came to rest. Obi-Wan dropped his eyes, then hesitantly, determinedly, he raised them once more. The trainer smiled: a strange expression on that stern face, yet not unwelcoming: and held out one hand. Obi-Wan dropped the blanket and walked to him.

"My friends," began Sitaris, "my people. Three times this day has my bonder spoken a truth out of turn, three times to save us."

"I bear witness to that," Kadric interjected. "This bonder speaks the truth of the god-chosen. It is an omen of change."

"Speak to the people, boy. Tell them the will of the gods." Sitaris gave Obi-Wan a little push, watching him expectantly.

Obi-Wan wet his lips, staring at Sitaris, then turned to the crowds. "Masters, bonders all:" he began in a tentative voice. He saw Viden flash an encouraging smile at him, watching from one side, now, letting him have the floor. He took a deep breath, and spoke as loud and clearly as he could. "Master is provider, protector, teacher. Bonder is servant, student. Both are friends, comrades, parents and children, brothers and sisters. It is time for the people of Lansar to take this step."

"Let every one of us," said Sitaris, "call this our day of freedom." And with that, he reached out to Obi-Wan: touched the collar at his neck. It opened, fell to the ground. Obi-Wan stared at it, dull metal dusty upon the red dirt. Then he looked back to Sitaris, and smiled. His heart could hardly contain the sweet triumph that soared within him. Not every battle was won by force of arms.

All around the cavern, Obi-Wan heard the sound of collars clicking open. Everywhere he looked bonders stood in wonder clasping their necks, embracing one another. Some embraced their masters. Some cried alone.

Sitaris laid a broad hand upon Obi-Wan's shoulder. "On the bonder's day of freedom, he chooses a new name."

"I have a name, Sitaris, and a home," Obi-Wan answered softly. "I choose to return to both."

"Thank you Sitaris," said Viden then, stepping near. His eyes fell on Obi-Wan and he smiled. Then he turned to Kadric. "And thanks to you, Kadric. Your example helped the transition to go smoothly, and peacefully."

"This change has been due for a long while. You were right, Viden," said Kadric.

Sitaris turned, seeing Will and Deanna push in behind him. "These people have need of our help, Viden," said Sitaris. "Their ship has been commandeered by Xanatos's forces. If his people learn how to bring the ship's weapons on line -"

"The large alien vessel the Offworld fleet attacked when they first arrived in the system?" asked Viden.

"Her name is Enterprise," Will told them. "We had hoped that the Jedi -"

"The Jedi are already en route to your ship," Viden interrupted. His gaze shifted to Obi-Wan. The boy inhaled with sudden anxiety. "Seeing the two of you at the Council meeting led them to believe the object of their long search to be sequestered there."

"What -?" Will asked.

"Is Qui-Gon with them?" Obi-Wan overrode the commander. He couldn't stop himself asking.

"Is he your master, lad? I guessed as much," Viden said kindly, at Obi-Wan's nod, "but I did not ask. I do not know the answer to your question. I have only met Master Ellmore and Knight Vederra. It was Tahl Vederra who asked me to watch for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Have you some way to contact them?"

"I fear we have none, not now," he answered. "Offworld is blocking all our off-planet transmissions. But you may come with me to the city, if you wish. Perhaps there we can find an answer to your need."

"And Will and the others?" Obi-Wan asked. Will broke off staring at Obi-Wan to look at Viden hopefully.

"They may come as well. Give me time to gather my warriors - will you join me above?

Obi-Wan nodded emphatically. "I will."

"Fifteen minutes, then." Viden bowed to him and to Sitaris, and withdrew, heading for the passage and stair that led to the sand, not the top of the stone formation.

"You are Jedi, lad?" Sitaris asked in wonderment.

Obi-Wan looked up at him, eyes serious. "Yes. I am Jedi."

"You never told me."

"How could I have done so?"

Sitaris nodded sadly. "I would have fostered you, if you would have me. But you have another destiny before you, it seems. Still, I would not have you leave with empty arms. The master always presents his bonder with gifts on his day of freedom."

"There is no need -"

"At least let me provide you with clothing."

Obi-Wan smiled gratefully. "That I would appreciate," he said. He crossed his arms, once more embarrassingly aware of his bare skin.

"We'll wait for you here," Deanna called to him as he followed Sitaris away, "if you wish it." Obi-Wan smiled and waved, knowing she would sense his confirmation.

The remains of Sitaris's tent was covered with dust and debris. Only half of it still stood. Sitaris had Obi-Wan wait outside while he pushed through the mess within. Soon he emerged with a water bag, a small bundle of cloth and packages, and a pair of boots: Obi-Wan's boots from Enterprise.

"We don't waste good footwear," Sitaris explained as he put the boots on the ground. "I'm afraid my tunic and trousers will be far too large for you," he continued, "but you should have some protection from the sun - hopefully you won't be needing it from flying rock and shrapnel."

"I'll be more careful, Sitaris, I promise," the boy assured him.

Chuckling, Sitaris pulled the loose tunic over the boy's head. It reached to his knees, but with the neck laced up, it didn't slip from his shoulders. Sitaris tied back the sleeves. "I get the feeling, young Jedi, that you attract trouble at the best of times. But I will rest easier for that promise." He handed obi-Wan the trousers, which the boy pulled on under the tunic. He pulled the drawstring tight around his waist.

Sitaris produced a belt, which he cut short to fit the boy. He fastened it around Obi-Wan's middle, gathering in the loose tunic. It was wide, of leather, with rings of metal embedded for holding tools, and a small pouch at the side.

"Thank you, Sitaris," the boy said earnestly, looking up at the trainer's gray eyes. He suspected that a leather belt of this quality was difficult to come by on this world.

"No need, lad. Obi-Wan. Thank you. I have learned a great deal from you these weeks - not least to open my eyes and my mind to new possibilities, new ideas. I owe you."

"I'll miss you, Sitaris." the boy said quietly. "I've learned form you, as well - to appreciate quiet, stillness. Something of patience, of acceptance."

"Here," Sitaris said, "pack these for the road." He handed Obi-Wan a small package of the sweet and chewy grain bars Lansarites favored. Obi-Wan tucked them in his belt pouch, then pulled on his boots.

"Will you drink with me before you go?" Sitaris asked when he finished. With the gravity of ritual, Obi-Wan took the water bag from Sitaris, and drank, handing it back when it was half finished. Sitaris followed him, finishing the water that remained. He wiped his lips, then slung the bag over his shoulder. "Honor to you, always, young Jedi Obi-Wan."

"And to you, Sitaris. May the Force be with you." On impulse, Obi-Wan embraced the man, so short a while his master. Sitaris clasped him close, then let him go. "We may yet meet again, Sitaris." Obi-Wan turned, then, and without a backward glance, walked to the center of the cavern, on his way to the stair to the surface, feeling intensely his freedom.

Deanna, Will and Wesley fell into step with him as he passed near; together they walked to the stairway by which they had first been brought into the Lansarite camp.

"Ben - Obi -" stammered Wesley.

"Obi-Wan," he corrected with a smile.

"Obi-Wan. You said you are a Jedi."

"I am. I have been, almost since the day I was born, when my parents gave me into the care of the Jedi Temple."

"At the Council meeting," said Will, "it was said that the Jedi are the arm of justice for the Republic."

"So we are. We serve the Republic as ambassadors, mediators, agents of justice, and guardians of the peace. So we have always done - well, for as long as anyone remembers."

"But you're so young," Deanna protested.

"I'm an apprentice," Obi-Wan replied happily. "A Padawan learner, on the path to enlightenment. At least I hope so. The Jedi Council might debate that point, considering the trouble I've found recently."

They emerged from the dim winding stair into sunshine, and stood blinking in the light of full day. Pale near the horizon shone a small golden moon. The red of dry dirt cut a sharp contrast to the deep azure overhead: a stark, majestic panorama. Several landspeeders and personnel transports hovered nearby. Some rose to the sky as they approached. Viden stood by the nearest transport, speaking with the pilot. When he saw them he waved them over.

"We have news of a downed starcraft not far from here," he said without preamble as they approached. "We'll take a short detour to deal with it."

"What kind of ship?" Obi-Wan asked, as Viden boosted him into the back of the transport.

"Corellian, that's all I know." Viden helped the others climb in, then scrambled up himself. The pilot immediately lifted off. "Four Offworlders are resisting being taken into custody."

The wind picked up as they increased speed, making conversation difficult. Obi-Wan watched the landscape speed by, breathing deeply of the clean, dry air of the open desert. The sun and the hot air whistling by left him comfortably warm. He shielded his eyes, scanning the horizon ahead. A glint of silver caught his eye. He pointed it out for Wesley, beside him on the seat, leaning forward into the wind, watching. Wesley nodded, his eyes fixed on the spot.

In only a few minutes they reached the crash site. A long gouge marred the flat where the ship had skidded before coming to rest, but the craft herself looked remarkably intact. Obi-Wan guessed she had suffered engine failure. Several transports and speeders were there before them; Obi-Wan noted a small crowd surrounding what must be te now-captured Offworld operatives.

"May I question them?" the boy asked, turning to Viden.

"You may," the man answered, indicating Obi-Wan and his companions might follow him.

The prisoners were human, and Corellian, by their clothing: all but one - a tall Durran. Obi-Wan noted the human female that must be their captain - she watched her Lansarite guards with contempt, and held her head with the surety of command. No use trying with that one. The youngest male, though - Obi-Wan turned to Viden, brows upraised, and was granted a nod of permission. He faced the young human squarely and drew on the Force, focusing power with his hand held before him, first fingers straight and stiff.

"Tell me the procedure to dock in the alien starship," he said easily, almost conversationally.

"To dock -" the youth's brow creased. "approach the lower bay. When asked, the code is Ionite clocking."

"You idiot!" Shouted the woman, almost drowning out the young man's recitation of the pass code. "What are you doing?" The youth stammered, unable to answer. The woman turned a venomous eye on Obi-Wan. "What are you - a Jedi whelp?"

Obi-Wan tilted his head and did not answer.

"Done?" Viden asked. The boy nodded. Viden gestured that the prisoners should be removed.

"Your blasted mind tricks won't save you if I find you've touched my ship!" the captain shouted as she was escorted away, none too gently.

"I may be able to repair the ship," Obi-Wan told Viden, "depending upon the damage."

"A functional ship may be of some use, though in truth I don't believe we have any pilots available right now who could fly it."

"I know how to fly her," Obi-Wan answered. "And I'm a good pilot. I could return these people to Enterprise."

"You could do what?" Wesley demanded.

"No way," growled Will, "you are not going back into danger."

"I want to return to my people, Will," the boy pleaded. "They're up there, looking for me. And how else will you get back?"

"Teach me to fly the ship," Will answered. "I'll tell your people where to find you."

"You have a few spare days to learn?"

Will growled in frustration, turning his back on the boy.

Deanna tapped her communicator. "Troi to Enterprise," she intoned. There was no response.

"We don't even know if the ship can be made spaceworthy," Obi-Wan pointed out. "Let me try to repair her: it will most likely be time well spent, and perhaps another option will present itself in the meantime." Yet even as he argued, obi-Wan knew there would be no other option. They would return to Enterprise on this ship, and soon.

Will sighed, his lips pursed tight. "All right," he said finally. "Is there some way we can help? Perhaps one of us should go to the city -"

"I can contact you if the comm blockage ends, or if we find a pilot able to take you." Viden held a hand out to one of the warriors at his side, who gave the leader his comlink. Viden handed the comlink to Obi-Wan. "Infiltrating your ship to stop Xanatos is a high priority for us as well as for you. I will leave a squad here, with a speeder, to guard this site. Contact me if you have need of me."

"Thank you for all your help," Deanna told him. Viden bowed in answer, and left them.

"Come on," Obi-Wan told Wesley. "Want to see a Corellian starfighter?"

"Are you kidding?" Wes yelled, following. "You couldn't pay me to stay away!"

Will and Deanna exchanged bemused glances. "Kids," Will intoned. Deanna chuckled.


	19. Chapter 19

Will crouched in the cramped engine room of the tiny star ship, helping Obi-Wan to replace a spart for the impulse drive - he knew no more about it than that. He watched the boy meticulously replace the disconnected wiring, attaching it to the new metal housing.

"Obi-Wan, what did you do to that young crewman?"

"I made a suggestion that he should answer me. The weak-minded can be influenced that way."

"So you chose the youngest to ask."

"The most easily influenced."

"Which is also how you got the Offworld guard on Enterprise to open our cell."

"Yes." Obi-Wan looked up from his work, then. "What's bothering you, Will?"

Will sat against the wall of the hyperdrive behind him, drawing up his legs in front of him, since there was no room to stretch. "I had thought, at the time, that you had the authority to give her orders. That you had the cell opened so you could -" he found he couldn't say it.

"So I could kill Wesley."

"Yes." Will looked into the boy's sad eyes. "I was angry with you, angrier than I had any right to be, with the situation so uncertain. I let my anger blind me. I used it to hurt you." He grimaced. "Of all my acts of the past days, I am most ashamed that I pushed you away: when you were trying to help, and when you needed me. I am so sorry, Obi-Wan."

"I know," the boy answered seriously. "And I've long since forgiven you. I understand." Obi-Wan sighed, then sat beside the tall officer, drawing up his own knees in unconscious imitation. "Will," he said, "I owe you an apology."

"You don't owe me anything, Obi-Wan -"

"Hear me out," the boy interrupted. "I betrayed your trust, breaking into your things, taking your padd. Of everything that has happened in the past few days, that act shames me most. I hurt you. It was my own fear that you would find out that led me to run from you in the Jefferies tubes. I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"Why did you do it?" Will asked quietly.

"I feared from what I had seen that Enterprise would have no defense against the ion cannons I knew Xanatos would bring. I did not believe you would allow me to study your systems in more depth to confirm it. I took your padd to study your defense systems, and to develop a protocol using one of the sensor arrays to create a deflection pattern. I had hoped," he sighed, "that my actions would remain undiscovered until I had time to implement my program. I was wrong."

"Only because Xanatos turned us against you."

"It was a reckless act regardless, and an untrusting and untrustworthy way to try to help. I played right into Xanatos's hands," the boy said wryly.

"That may be so," Will answered. "But I have to admit that in your position, I most likely would have done exactly the same. Of course I forgive you." He touched the boy's arm and chuckled. "Who knew that the rescue of a slave boy would lead me to the belly of an alien ship, on an alien world? What was that battle about, Obi-Wan, in Xanatos' quarters?" He was surprised when the boy glanced quickly away.

"Nothing worth discussing now." Obi-Wan leaned forward, sorting the wires and fibers he had yet to finish connecting. "I need to finish these repairs."

Will's heart sank with foreboding. "A human went to Sitaris, claiming to be your master. That was Qui-Gon, wasn't it? Another Jedi. And after you disappeared, so did he - lost in the fighting, looking for you."

"Will, I don't want to talk about it."

"You had already been rescued. That's why the collar was missing. And the robe wrapped around you was his."

"Will, stop!" Obi-Wan whispered.

"I took you away by transporter - and I got him killed."

Obi-Wan made a noise of protest, and leaned his head against the panel in front of him. He took three deep breaths. "Qui-Gon is not dead. He can't be. I would know if he were dead."

"Dear God, what have I done?"

"Stop it!" the boy shouted, and pounded both fists on the metal plating.

Will sucked his breath, and stared at Obi-Wan. "I've done it again," Will whispered. "Here you are grieving, with never a word against me, and all I could think of - No. It stops here." He put an arm around the boy, and drew him close.

"Will, please -" the boy protested, but did not pull away.

"Your Qui-Gon must be very special indeed, to earn the love of such an amazing boy."

"Don't -" he gasped. "I'll start crying or something-"

"Oh, horrors," Will teased gently. "Do Jedi never cry?"

Obi-Wan gulped down a half-sob, half laugh. He relaxed against Will, his breathing slowly steadying.

"Qui-Gon is my master, my teacher," he said finally, softly. He shuddered. "I have so much still to learn from him."

"We'll find him, Obi-Wan," Will promised.

They heard commotion outside the door. Wesley poked his head through. "Do you have the servo- oh, I'm sorry." He withdrew quickly.

Obi-Wan scrambled up. "It's right here, Wesley. Do you have that repulsor field assembly fixed?"

"Got it here," they heard him say, muffled by the door. They heard a thump. "Ow! Damn, it's heavy."

"I'll help," called Will.

-

With help from the two adults, Obi-Wan and Wesley soon had the repulsorlift engines and impulse drive repaired. Will and Deanna left the final reassembly and tuning to the two boys, and went to watch the sunset. A soft, warm breeze brushed their faces, tangling Deanna's hair. As a rule, Will disliked hot climates, preferring the bracing chill of his native Alaska. But the setting sun had painted the sky harvest gold and orange, setting the formations of standing stone aflame: a cadre of fiery sentinels forever at attention upon the molten plain. Riding high, a tiny red moon shone against the sparkle of stars in the gathering velvet of night. Will brushed an errant curl from Deanna's face. She smiled at him.

Behind them a rising whine signaled the boys' success. They turned. Wesley stood framed in the hatch. "She's up!" he called. "You coming?"

The two adults strolled back to the ship. Wes fidgeted with impatience. "Who's in charge, here?" Will demanded, half-serious, as they ascended the entrance ramp.

"I contacted Viden," Obi-Wan told them from the pilot's chair. "He has no news, but he's cleared our signal with Lansar defense. We can fly her -"

"We haven't decided to take this path," Will interrupted. "I would prefer to leave both of you boys here, in relative safety."

The teens exchanged glances, but said nothing. They didn't have to. They all knew time was running out.

Will sighed and looked to Deanna.

They're confident. They're not afraid.

"That's part of what worries me," Will answered aloud. "All right, you two, I want your promise that if we do go, you will follow my orders. And you will keep yourselves safe, both of you."

"Yes, sir," said Wesley.

Obi-Wan nodded. "You're in charge."

"Let's see you fly," Will told Obi-Wan.

The boy smiled. "Take the co-pilot's seat. I'll show you how to work the shields and weapons. Deanna and Wesley have port and ventral lasers, and starboard and dorsal lasers, respectively," he continued as everyone settled in their seats.

"Three weapons stations?" asked Deanna.

"This is a pirate ship," Obi-Wan answered. They all strapped in, listening while he showed them how to use the basic display and controls.

Then, with the ease of a veteran, Obi-Wan checked the ship's systems, flipping switches and dials whose function Will could only guess. They rose smoothly into the air. Through the wide front window they watched stone and sand disappear in shadow below. Then Obi-Wan pushed forward on the stick, and they sped on, banking towards the setting sun.

Will checked his viewscreen. It showed the rear view by default, the landscape they were leaving behind. The scene glowed blue with light from the rear engines - the impulse drive, Obi-Wan had called it. Will reviewed the controls, scrolling through views around all sides of the ship as well as above and below, checking shield status, rotating laser turrets. The small craft was rapidly gaining speed and altitude. Even with the sun visible they soon saw stars through the thinning atmosphere.

"Where did you learn to pilot, Obi-Wan?" Deanna asked.

"It was part of my early training. Also I've had some experience this past year -"

The comm crackled to life. "Terin, what happened down there?" a male voice demanded. "We thought you were done for!"

Obi-Wan looked to Will, eyes anxious. Will flipped his display to the rear screen. Behind flew another well-armed craft, slightly larger than theirs, of similar design.

"Can you fob them off? Technical problems?" Will suggested.

"I'll try." He clicked the comm a few times.

"What's wrong?" the voice asked. "Use your comlink."

"It's no good," Obi-Wan said. He waggled their wings in a last-ditch effort.

"Who are you?" the voice asked, growing suspicious. The ship behind pressed closer.

Obi-Wan looked helplessly to Will.

"Run for it," he ordered.

The boy threw them into a sharp dive. Their pursuer, momentarily shaken, soon banked to follow. Obi-Wan aimed them south. He sheered sideways, successfully avoiding a series of laser blasts.

"You'd better up the rear deflectors," Obi-Wan told Will.

"Right. Aft shields seventy percent." He brought the targeting computer on line, hoping it wouldn't be difficult to learn. Wesley, sitting behind him, got off the first shots. He missed.

The ship behind fired again, this time barely strafing their side as Obi-Wan shed altitude once more.

"Shields down ten percent," Will announced, then wondered if it were better not to: he didn't want to rattle their young pilot. He squeezed off a series of shots from his own station, catching the nose of the following craft. Answering fire just missed them.

"Shee-it!" yelled Wes.

"Don't panic," said Obi-Wan. "We're not in trouble yet. I want to dip into that canyon below. We'll have the advantage, being a smaller craft."

"Can you handle it?" Will asked.

"Yes," the boy answered shortly.

Another stream of laser fire caught them on the dorsal shields. Will grimaced. "Go ahead," he told the boy. They wouldn't last much longer, outgunned and overpowered, in the open air.

Immediately the boy rolled their craft into a tightly controlled spin and dropped. Their pursuer followed, losing ground at first but soon gaining once more.

"Shields?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Down eighteen percent."

"Equalize."

Will complied, nervously watching the ground approach. Tumbled rocks loomed ahead, with a dry streambed meandering among them.

"Ben -" Wes squeaked, reverting to the usename they'd given the boy.

"Trust me." At what must have been the last possible moment, Obi-Wan pulled their nose up and rocketed northwest along the floor of the gully. The ship behind pulled up as well, not so smoothly, and skidded on the gully's rock wall.

"That must have hurt," Will commented as Deanna let off another string of laser bursts, catching their attacker's side. The following craft's shields shimmered red. "You do fly well," Will commented.

"Say that after we get away," the boy replied. "Hold on." He careened around a tight bend, then increased speed.

"Uh -" Will stammered. Ahead, a sheer wall loomed - they had no way to see what lay beyond, or whether the canyon turned or ended. But Obi-Wan, cool as ever, banked them sharply to port. The gully opened ahead of them. Behind, their pursuer again was not so fortunate; once more skidding off her shields. Will drew a bead and fired, scoring a hit. Answering fire caught their tail. There wasn't sufficient room to maneuver.

"Shields down thirty-two -"

"I know," the boy answered, his voice cool, detached. If anything he seemed calmer, now, than Will had ever seen him.

Will glanced up from his viewscreen, looking ahead, and wished he hadn't. They turned another sharp bend. Directly ahead of them the walls of the canyon yearned together, leaving only a narrow passage between.

With a flick of the stick, Obi-Wan flipped them completely sideways. They slid into the narrow space. Will could have sworn they had less than a meter clearance to either side. Behind them, their attacker crashed, exploding into a fireball that pursued them down the fissure.

Smoothly Obi-Wan negotiated two more bends. They emerged into open air once more, and dimming sunlight. Obi-Wan pulled them up, once more up into the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

Will released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "I hope Terin doesn't have any more friends waiting."

"Shit. Shit. Shit," Wes quietly intoned.

"I can safely say that was the best flying I've ever seen." He turned on the boy "How in hell did you know, with those blind corners -"

"The Force was with us," Obi-Wan answered enigmatically, checking their systems for damage.

Will stared at Obi-Wan until he looked up. The boy flushed. "I… when I'm deep in the Force, I… it guides me. I don't need to know."

"You didn't know what you were doing?" Wesley's voice rose in disbelief.

"I trust in the Force. I don't know how else to explain." Obi-Wan returned his attention to piloting.

"Deanna." Will twisted in his seat.

"Does it matter, Will?" He closed his eyes in frustration. She sighed. "All the while we were being chased, I felt him changing. Growing more whole, more - more than just himself. If he can't explain it, how do you expect me to?"

"There's Enterprise," Obi-Wan told them. Will looked forward. They great ship was tiny in the distance. "You should all change into something less conspicuous," the boy continued. "There's a locker across from the hatch with unisuits, shirts, and trousers; I think everyone will find something that fits, given the body types of the former crew."

"I'll change after we land," Will answered. He watched Enterprise grow larger as they approached. She was dark, dead in space. Alien ships soared to and from her shuttle bays. Will suppressed a shiver. It hurt to see their beloved ship violated.

"The others -"

"I'm sure your mother and everyone else are fine, Wesley," Deanna said, standing. "They're too stubborn to give in." She made her way aft to find a change of clothing.

"She's more magnificent than I had imagined," said Obi-Wan, staring out the front viewport. Will glanced at him. Of course: he had never seen Enterprise from the outside.

"Your turn, Wes," Deanna said, returning. She wore a dark blue jumper, adorned with many pockets.

"Yeah," Wes said, and left his seat.

Obi-Wan aimed for the shuttlebay in the Engineering hull, the one with the most traffic. When they were only a few minutes from arrival, they were hailed by comm. "Entrance code," said a bored voice.

Will clicked on the response channel. "Ionite clocking."

"You're cleared for landing, Terin's Dream."

Obi-Wan steered them carefully into the bay, settling to the floor near the inner wall, close to the innermost doors. Five minutes later, with all but Obi-Wan changed into clothing from the ship's stores, they gathered by the hatch. Obi-Wan leaned against the hull, eyes closed.

"What do you sense?" Deanna asked quietly.

"Nothing certain." He straightened.

"Maybe you should stay here, Obi-Wan," Will said.

"No," he answered, "I should keep moving. If Xanatos senses me here, I'll be trapped."

"Then let's go," Will said. "To the nearest exit, and into the Jefferies tubes. We need to make contact with any other crew that are free."

Obi-Wan lowered the hatch. Silently they left the ship.


	20. Chapter 20

Not far from their entrance to the service corridors, Obi-Wan paused at a ladderway, his eyes distant. Will signaled the others to stop.

"The Captain and Geordi are almost directly below us," Obi-Wan said at last.

"I'll go first," said Deanna. "Come on, Wesley." Wes shouldered his phaser rifle and followed the counselor.

"You next," Will told Obi-Wan. He looked sharply at the boy when he didn't respond. Obi-Wan's eyes were unfocused, blank. "What is it?" he asked.

"Probes coming," Obi-Wan answered quietly. "Will, I think Data may have been right. The implant Xanatos cursed me with may be calling them."

"There's no time to worry about that now," Will said. "We'll deal with any probes that come."

Obi-Wan focused, now, on Will, his eyes intense. "I'm endangering you all," he said. "You go down. I'll draw them off."

"Oh no you don't." Will grabbed the boy's arm, holding tight, suddenly afraid he would run away. "And what will you do then - wait until they catch up with you, all alone? Or Xanatos tracks you down?"

"I'll destroy the implant."

"Dr. Crusher said doing that could kill you," Will protested.

"It has to be done."

"No," Will said. "I'm not letting you go off alone to get yourself killed or captured. We will figure something out. But right now, you're going down this ladder." He pulled Obi-Wan toward him.

For a moment, Obi-Wan looked like he would object. Then he frowned and seized the ladder. "Be careful, Will. They're coming fast," he warned as he descended.

When there was space to follow, Will mounted the ladder one-handed, keeping his phaser rifle at the ready in the other. The back of his neck prickled; he kept his eyes raised as he went. Sure enough, when he was one and a half decks down, a probe droid swung into view. He fired. It danced in the air above him. It fired back, narrowly missing him. Then a second droid joined it, descending to level with the first, shooting off a steady stream of energy blasts. Will was trapped in the narrow space, with precious little room to maneuver. He fired again, this time hitting a droid squarely. It dropped, bounced off the wall of the shaft, and hit his back. At the same time, the second droid fired a blast that hit his arm holding the ladder. His fingers went limp. He fell back, wedged between ladder and shaft wall. A worse position: now he was an easy target for the remaining droid. He took aim.

Suddenly the droid whizzed up the shaft again. It slammed against the ceiling above. Blue sparks danced over its surface. Then it fell, straight for him. And stopped, centimeters from his upturned face, hovering. But not humming. Its power source was dead.

"Can you get off the ladder, Will?" Deanna called from below, her voice anxious. "There's a deck opening just below you, at your feet. We're safe on the decks below you."

Will realized he was gaping at the floating droid. He shut his mouth and swallowed, but couldn't tear his eyes away at first. "I - " He blinked, and slung his phaser over his shoulder. Then he reached out with his now free hand and took hold of the ladder. His left arm hung, useless, at his side. Now he thought of it, a rush of searing pain from the wound took his breath. He clung to the ladder, suddenly dizzy.

"I'm coming up to get you," Captain Picard called. So they'd found each other. Will could hear him mount the ladder.

Will shook his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'm coming down." When he opened his eyes again, his balance and vision had steadied. Carefully he descended six rungs to the level of the deck just below him. There, just to the side of the opening, Obi-Wan stood looking up at the floating droid, arm and hand slightly upraised. Will watched, dumbfounded, as the boy lowered his hand and swung it behind him. The dead droid followed, clattering to the floor some ways away.

"How did you -"

"What's going on?" Picard asked from several meters below.

"Be still," the boy said quietly. He put one hand across the space between them and placed his palm flat against Will's chest. The pain Will had been trying to ignore lessened somewhat; became more bearable. Obi-Wan gave him an encouraging smile. Then he turned and ran silently down the corridor, soon turning a corner and disappearing from view.

"Obi-Wan, wait!" Will called, too late.

Picard squeezed to one side of Will, until Riker's knees were even with his chest. "What happened?" he asked. Will only pointed with his uninjured arm, to the dead droid on the floor of the corridor.

"Who was here?" the Captain asked. "You called someone."

"Ben. He saved me from the second droid. I still don't know how. Then he ran away." Will swallowed around the lump growing in his throat. "He told me he thought Data may be right, that the droids are following him."

Picard looked up, to where the droids had entered the shaft; then down the corridor where Obi-Wan had disappeared. "We'd better go before more droids arrive. We'll have to find another route down. This one has become too dangerous. Come, it's too late to chase the boy now."

"I have to go after him. He -" Will groaned as he bumped his arm on the shaft wall.

"You'd never catch him, Will. Come down, now." Picard waited for Will to start down, and climbed down two more decks with him.

Geordi waited there, with Deanna and Wes, guarding the down shaft and the corridor stretching beyond them. Deanna helped Will climb off the ladder, then ripped the sleeve from his shirt to bind up his arm. At that point Will found it difficult to continue attending to their surroundings. He leaned against the wall; tried to ignore the pain as Deanna wrapped the wound and injected him with a painkiller and antibiotic from the small store Beverly had left with her. The wound was an ugly mess, but at least his bones were still whole. Damn, it hurt.

"We need to decide whether to continue this way," Picard was saying. "Geordi and I have been trying to find a route to one of the engineering stations that hasn't been trapped. We're trying to reach his office now," he explained.

"We can't go without Obi-Wan!" cried Wes. "Where is he, Will?"

"He said he would draw off the droids. He left. I tried to stop him, but -"

"Oh, no -" Deanna said.

"We have to find him!" said Wes.

"Do you know where he went?" the Captain demanded.

"He left me on deck 41, I think," Will answered, "heading forward."

"That was deck 41," Picard confirmed. "Will, are you certain that finding him again is a good idea? That he's not going straight to Xanatos?"

"He's not," said Deanna firmly.

"He wants to get back to his own people," Will added. "They should be here, somewhere, looking for him."

Picard sighed. "We're going up, to deck 36. We'll have to hope our path crosses the boy's. Geordi, can you find us a new route?"

"There are other ladderways," Geordi said. "They're narrow, but passable."

"Better that than wait for another attack as we climb," Deanna agreed, tying off Will's makeshift bandages. Will grimaced. Deanna shot him a tolerant look, dark brows raised.

"I can help find the way," Wesley chimed in.

"Alright," Picard agreed. "Geordi, you take the lead, with Wesley behind you. I'll guard the rear. Counselor, keep an eye on Will ahead of you."

"I don't need to be babysat," Will grumbled as he fell in behind Wes, skirting the down shaft. He knew the fire in his arm was affecting his temper, but he needed an outlet.

"You'll need to help Wes and Geordi with door codes, Number One."

"I'm still keeping my phaser ready."

"That goes without saying," Picard agreed. His amused tone did nothing to help Will's mood.

-

They set a quick pace once they had passed beyond two sealed doors that served as security between the maintenance corridors near the Matter/Antimatter storage facility and the even narrower access shafts around the science labs and sensor stations beyond. Geordi and Wes frequently consulted in quiet tones: the functioning of Geordi's visor was unimpeded by the darkness, and they rarely even paused at the cross-corridors and branchings. All four adults had to walk stooped over to avoid the pipes and conduits hanging overhead, and Will was beginning to feel decidedly claustrophobic. He leaned heavily on his gun arm so his wounded arm wouldn't brush the wall.

In the dark passages there was little to focus on but the quiet shuffle of their passage. Lighting in Enterprise had not yet returned to normal; faint light filtered through occasionally from rooms around them where the conduits branched off, but for the most part they relied on the string of tiny blue emergency lights that followed the passage, and on Geordi and Wesley's guidance. Be careful, Will. Obi-Wan's voice in his memory was gentle, almost musical in tone and cadence. He could only hope the boy was safe; that they would find him soon. He had shown frighteningly little instinct for self-preservation in the short time Will had known him. On the other hand, he had also demonstrated that he was possessed of skill beyond his years as well as mysterious abilities. How did he plan to destroy the implant on his own - a task that Beverly had tried with surgery? Will glanced down a side passage, hoping for a glimpse of Obi-Wan, though he suspected finding him would be difficult indeed if Obi-Wan didn't wish to be found.

They stopped as they reached a junction of three corridors, with a ladderway leading up. Geordi and Wes moved aside to let the others gather in the more open space. Will stretched, as did Picard and Deanna. Wes looked solemnly to Picard. "This will bring us most of the way."

Picard nodded. "Geordi, take the lead. Be careful. Then Counselor Troi. Wes, you next."

The small group ascended three more decks without incident. By then Picard could take the lead again, as they had returned to an area of larger accessways, near the more central areas of the ship. They had also come to an area where more of the invaders were congregated. They kept silent as they walked, listening for any sign of discovery or pursuit. Will listened for news in the conversations they passed, hoping for news of Worf and the rest of the crew. In hurried whispers on their way through the smallest corridors, Picard had explained that Worf's team had held sections of the saucer against the invaders for the past day. They could not risk communicator contact on an occupied ship - it was too easy to trace - but all Will could hear through the insulated walls was an occasional word or phrase.

Finally they reached deck thirty-five, and the corridors servicing the Engineering control room and Geordi's office. They could hear the rumble of many voices within the walls of the control room; the lights shone brightly.

"It's overrun with invaders," Geordi whispered to them after peering through a crack in the wall of the corridor where the conduits entered the ceiling of the control room. "We won't get to anything in there. Let's try my office."

The small group walked around two more corridors, to a point that should be just above the Engineering chief's office. Sure enough, the lights were off, the room silent. "All clear," Geordi told them, after peering in with his visor.

Picard and Deanna used their phasers to loosen the rivets holding the section of wall at the ceiling of the room below, then Geordi helped to pull the loose section carefully out of the way into the maintenance tunnel. Quietly they dropped into the room; Geordi, Picard and Wes moved immediately to the workstations, Will and Deanna to guard the door, one to each side. Will heard a cold, angry voice speaking in the far room: he put his ear to the door to better hear what was going on. A glance at Deanna confirmed his opinion: it was Xanatos.

"Idiots! How is it that, even when they are trapped in a corner with a limited supply of weapons, you cannot defeat them? That you are losing ground?"

"The big one fights like a Togorian, Boss; and they use their knowledge of the area to surprise us. We've set all the traps we have, but you wanted priority around the area where the boy disappeared."

"And has there been any sign of that boy? Anything that might possibly hint at his position?"

A hesitant pause. "About half an hour ago two of our droids picked up what might have been his signal, two decks below us, in the maintenance tunnels. They were destroyed almost immediately. I sent out a team to investigate, and more droids, but those tunnels are a maze -"

"Why wasn't I told earlier?" asked Xanatos dangerously.

"It might only be the renegade crew -"

"No. It's him. Instruct everyone they are to report to me immediately any sighting of the boy, any hint of him, no matter how unlikely. He's to be captured if at all possible; but if necessary, kill him and bring me the body. Keep a guard around this area, and call for reinforcements."

"Boss, the nearest reinforcements are in the Denebar system -"

"Then get them here! Jaffertin! Why haven't you cracked their computer systems yet! We need those deck plans!"

"It's an alien system, Boss, like nothing I've ever seen -"

Will thought of Obi-Wan, hidden somewhere in the Jefferies tubes, and hoped he was safe. He wished he knew why Xanatos wanted him so badly.

All had gone quiet in the room beyond. Will wished he could see what was happening. Suddenly Deanna stood away from the door, a look of alarm on her face. "We've got to get out," she hissed. "They know we're here."

At that moment, the door exploded inward in a burst of flame, knocking Will to the floor. Deanna fired at the shadowy figures beyond from behind Geordi's desk, as a rain of laser fire swept the room. Picard immediately grabbed Wes around the middle and hurled him up through the opening they'd made, back into the Jefferies tubes. "Run!" he ordered the boy. Wes hesitated only a moment. But in that moment, a force like an unseen hand seemed to pluck him up, pulling him back into the room.

"Stun only! I want prisoners!" Xanatos ordered. There came a pause in the laser fire, which Will and Geordi and Deanna put to good use, taking out several of their attackers. Picard had grabbed Wesley's leg, trying to pull him back to the floor, with only moderate success. Both were slowly losing ground. Then a high-pitched burst of sound filled the room. A diffuse flash lit Picard, who toppled, unconscious. A moment later Deanna fell to another burst of light, then Geordi. Will ducked behind the desk, and didn't even look when next he fired toward the door. He heard a body fall, regardless, and shot again.

"Give up, Will Riker," Xanatos called. "You are only endangering your crewmates." Will heard Wesley cry out in pain.

Will stood quickly. He threw his phaser to one side and raised his good arm away from his body. Pirates rushed into the room. They carried his friends out of the office, and herded him out at gunpoint. One of the invaders held Wesley, arms twisted behind his back, face showing his fear and pain, though he held his chin high, bravely.

"Where is my simulant?" Xanatos demanded of the boy.

"He's not your anything," Will spat back.

Xanatos' blue eyes glittered. He nodded to his minions behind Will, who seized hold of him. One of them took hold of his injured arm and twisted. Despite himself, Will screamed. Distantly he heard Xanatos asking again.

"He's dead," he heard Wesley saying. "Your probe droid killed him."

"You're lying."

Something struck Will's arm, this time, burning the damaged tissue, and he screamed again, and nearly blacked out.

He heard Wesley's voice, young and frightened, fading in and out. "...don't know where he is, he ran away... deck forty-one... haven't seen him in..."

"Have all available droids search the ship on the five decks above this one, including the maintenance corridors. Report anything they find, anything at all, to me."

Will heard the scuffle of many feet moving in and out of the room. His arms were bound in front of him; he was thrown to the floor against the wall.

"Will? Are you okay, Commander? Will?" Wesley's voice was anxious; with gentle hands the boy tried to adjust the disturbed bandages on his injured arm. Will gasped.

"I'm sorry," Wesley whispered.

"Don't be." Will managed. He lifted his head and opened his eyes. Wesley's hands, too, were bound in thick metal rings in front of him. Picard lay in a crumpled heap behind Wes; Will watched an invader secure the captain's hands behind him. "Where are Deanna and Geordi?"

"Behind you, still out cold. What are we going to do now?"

"Before the door was breached, I heard Xanatos bellowing about some problems they were having. Sounded like Worf is giving them hell. I think the hostages are free as well, because the invaders can't get to some of the upper decks anymore."

"They defeated us before."

"Worf has held them off for a day and a half, now." Will spoke encouragingly, but he was worried. Xanatos had also called for reinforcements.

Picard stirred. "Captain's coming around," Riker told Wes. "Help him sit up, if they'll let you."

Wes turned, watching the guards for any sign of disapproval. When they didn't stop him, he bent over Picard, speaking quietly to him. Picard came quickly to full alertness. Will could see his fury, tightly controlled, in the set of his face.

The Captain wasn't to be allowed to move, though - when he tried, a guard quickly stepped in, threatening with a long nasty-looking energy weapon. Picard sank back to the floor. Will wasn't about to press his luck. He wasn't certain he could move without passing out, regardless. He leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes.

"You look awful."

Geordi's voice came from behind Will. He shifted to put his back against the wall. "You don't sound so good yourself."

"My head hurts in the worst way. Did they knock you out, too?"

"Only in a more indirect fashion," Will answered, glancing down for the first time since they'd been captured at his arm. The bandages were torn out of place, the flesh twisted and mangled: on second thought maybe he wouldn't look. Feeling queasy, he leaned his head back against the wall once more.

"Not nice. Not nice at all. What next, do you think?"

"Play it by ear. Wait for Worf. It appears he's still free, and wreaking havoc."

"Some guys have all the luck."

Will felt the brush of Deanna's mind on his: she was worried about him. Peering beyond Geordi he could see her lying still with her back against the wall, her eyes closed. He worked to clear his mind as she'd once taught him, so she could read his thoughts. The old exercise helped him cope with the pain as well, he soon found.

Are you okay?

Whole and with a raging headache, she replied. Now what?

Why is everyone asking me? he asked, peeved.

Because Captain Picard is isolated on your other side, Commander. You can't be too badly off if you're whining. Hurting, but not dying yet.

Very funny.


	21. Chapter 21

Two decks up. Obi-Wan wound his way carefully back to the level of the cargo transporter bay, taking a circuitous route to throw off pursuit. Probe droids were everywhere in the corridors; grunts as well. If he was seen only once, Xanatos would have an edge tracking him down. It took all his senses and strength in the Force to avoid detection. He peered around a corner. Seeing all was clear, he slipped past it.

His strength in the Force: it was growing, still. The intensity of his awareness nearly overwhelmed him. Sometimes, when he focused down, it was an aid: like his piloting of Terin's Dream. But most of the time, as now, it was a distraction. Too much to handle: and he could not easily distinguish possible futures from events nearer at hand, nor the where and what and how of the beings and droids closing in on him. He thought he felt Will in pain: but was that a now, or a maybe yet to be? His training had not prepared him for this onslaught.

Shrugging away his anxiety, Obi-Wan turned yet another corner. The door to the cargo bay lay ahead of him: and hopefully, behind it, his lightsaber. He came up short before it. No, it's there, his instincts told him. He pushed the door open. All was silent and dark beyond: empty, as his senses had informed him. He stepped over the threshold.

His foot never reached the other side. A trap!

Blue sparks danced before his eyes, played hide-and-seek among his outstretched fingers. Obi-Wan calmed his racing heart; willed his mind to stillness.

He was caught in some sort of energy web that stretched across the doorway: caught and held motionless. He could blink, slowly; he could wiggle the foot behind him. But that was all. The room before him remained dark. This was an unguarded trap, then. But Xanatos would have been informed of his capture by now. Xanatos was on his way. Was there a way out? He could see none. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and searched for an answer in the Force. There was no way out.

But there was hope. Obi-Wan thought of Tahl. Was she here? Was Ki-Erin? Was Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan focused on his need. With all his strength, he flung the call from his soul, a cry for help.

Obi-Wan!

Qui-Gon? Obi-Wan could have wept for the joy that swept through him. I'm here! I'm trapped!

Reassurance washed through the young Jedi. Qui-Gon was on his way.

But there was more he needed to do. The implant - With fresh determination Obi-Wan turned his will to it. His growing strength in the Force would help him, here. He knew what it was, thanks to Data. It must be destroyed. He focused his will on the task

Pain blossomed at the base of his neck; spread upward along his spine. He ignored it. Time passed: how much, how little, he could not say. He could feel the molecules of the implant, an invader in his body: could feel the parts fusing, melting. He held on to his purpose. Held on: until finally his body failed him. He passed out.

-

A sudden bustle by the door heralded Xanatos's reappearance. "Any luck yet?" he asked a humanoid at one of the engineering terminals, one with a bulbous head.

"Nothing yet. We've got all our program decoders working to catalog their system."

"Perhaps one of our captives could be convinced to help. I believe we have one of their engineers, now."

"Great," muttered Geordi. "I had hoped he wouldn't remember that."

"Maybe we can use it to our advantage," Will replied.

Xanatos approached Geordi where he sat against the wall; stood towering over him, and pushed his long black cape back over one shoulder. Geordi refused to look up. "Well, now. What would it take to secure your cooperation, I wonder?"

"There's no point," Geordi drawled. "You won't get systems up from here."

"Oh? Then what were you so busy at in the side office? Playing games?"

"Trying to get things working, of course. But we wouldn't have succeeded, even if you hadn't interrupted us. Diagnostics showed a main power conduit has been damaged. Until it's been fixed, or power re-routed manually, nothing is going to happen."

"You expect me to believe you don't have redundant systems on a ship this size?"

"Of course we do. But we weren't exactly in good shape when you attacked."

Xanatos eyed Geordi for a time in silence. But either Geordi was bluffing with extraordinary skill, or he was telling the truth - perhaps to buy them time.

"Where must these repairs be done?"

"In the maintenance corridors by the M/AM column, two decks up. Or else in the cargo transporter bay, also on deck thirty-six."

"Boss -"

"What is it, Sherkess?" Xanatos asked without turning.

"We've caught something. Two decks up."

Will's throat constricted in foreboding.

Xanatos raised one brow. His eyes narrowed, considering, never leaving Geordi's face. "The cargo transporter bay?"

"A big room, boss. The one where we had a firefight with escaped prisoners, two days ago nearly."

"Well?" Xanatos asked quietly, this time pitched for Geordi.

"Well what?" Geordi said sourly. He knew Xanatos had already guessed, Will saw.

Xanatos's lips curled in a sardonic smile. "Shall we go see what we have caught?" Slowly, deliberately, he studied the faces of each of his prisoners, arrayed against the wall at his feet. "Gather them up," Xanatos ordered finally, speaking loudly and generally to his subordinates. "We're moving down. At which point you will help us to fix the problem, Mr. LaForge. You don't want to know the consequences of refusal."

"I'm sure," Geordi muttered as he was yanked to his feet.

The cargo transporter bay was a large open space with multiple entries, much less easily defensible from a strategic point of view. If Worf could only get this far, he'd have a much improved chance of breaking them free than from the engineering control room. Will only hoped they could stall long enough for the others to arrive. Xanatos was in a cruel mood. He had refused to let the adult prisoners use their hands, so the guards had to manhandle them down the tubes. He left everyone under guard in front of a bank of workstations by the port wall, and went immediately to the shimmering energy trap at the door to the Jefferies tube.

It was as Will had feared: Obi-Wan hung suspended in the trap. When Xanatos switched off the field, he collapsed to the floor and lay there, unstirring. Xanatos flipped him to his back with one foot, staring down at him. Then he crouched beside him and put a hand to the back of Obi-Wan's neck.

"Clever," the man muttered. "You've exceeded my expectations, boy. But it was a pointless gesture, you will see. I can always fit you with another control circuit." Xanatos turned to Sherkess, standing near. "Keep him under guard until he wakes. Remember he is dangerous, and take appropriate steps." Then, rising, he approached his prisoners, slowly, like a cat who knows its prey is cornered. Behind him Sherkess fastened the Obi-Wan's wrists in front of him with heavy cuffs like the rest of them wore, and took up guard standing over him.

Xanatos fixed his gaze on Geordi. "You have a job to do, here," he said.

"And how am I supposed to do that without tools, or -" Geordi shrugged expressively. His hands were still bound behind him.

"What do you need to do to repair the problem?" Xanatos asked Geordi impatiently.

"Use of my hands would help."

Xanatos called a guard over. "Free his hands," he ordered. "And?"

"A second set of hands."

Xanatos gestured to one of his engineers.

"She doesn't know -"

"Then you'll have to tell her."

Geordi hesitated.

"Don't try my patience."

"Right," Geordi answered sourly. The chief engineer led the way to one of the main control circuits across the room. They could hear him explaining to the woman beside him, though they could not hear the words. Xanatos trailed them, watching and listening.

Geordi's planning something. Deanna's voice echoed softly in Will's thoughts. He cleared his mind, with more difficulty now than before. His body was weakening.

He'd best be careful. Xanatos is sharp, and I'm sure he's expecting trickery.

You know he'll be careful.

Will sighed. He knew Geordi would use every ounce of cunning he possessed - and he was a skilled and competent man. But something told him Geordi may have met his match in Xanatos.

-

Obi-Wan woke slowly, stiff and sore. A stirring in the Force warned him to be cautious, to hide his consciousness. Xanatos was here. He heard the dark Jedi's sharp voice soft, controlled: barely veiling his impatiance. Deanna was here, and Will, and Wesley - and others of the crew. So they, too, had been captured.

Obi-Wan relaxed his body, but his mind raced. His hands were bound. Perhaps he could free them with the Force. The magnitude of power flowing through him made him giddy. Dared he use it? Only with a plan, with some hope of success - And a guard stood over him, watching. No, now was not the time.

Xanatos was giving orders. Listening carefully for a time, Obi-Wan realized he had Geordi working on repairs. Xanatos had focused his senses on the engineer, watching for an act of subterfuge. That Geordi had a plan in mind was evident. Obi-Wan could feel his tension and anticipation.

In the far corner of the room, behind the transporter platform, Obi-Wan's lightsaber lay waiting, as yet undiscovered.

And somewhere in the belly of Enterprise, Qui-Gon was there, looking for him.

The minutes passed. Five... ten... Obi-Wan felt tension building in the Force. What did Xanatos make of it? How long would he take to realize that Qui-Gon's arrival was contributing to the shifting currents?

With sudden ferocity, Xanatos seized Geordi and spun him around, slamming him into the wall and pinning him there. "You were starting to send a signal. Some kind of encoded message. What was it?"

"I needed to test the line -"

"Don't try to mislead me. There's more you're hiding. Explain what you were doing, and why."

Geordi stared at the man, his face unreadable with his visor in place.

After only a few seconds, Xanatos threw Geordi to the floor. "Bring him," he ordered generally, and two of his minions jumped to obey. He strode to where the others were held under guard, lined up sitting against the wall. Then he turned to Geordi, held between two guards. "I grow impatient with your tricks. Perhaps you need a demonstration that I mean business."

"What do you mean to do?" Picard demanded.

Lying still on the floor, Obi-Wan tensed. The time had come to act: it was now, or never. He only hoped he could keep Xanatos occupied long enough for help to arrive. He pursed his lips, his thoughts grim. His best was all that he could give. It would be enough. It had to be.


	22. Chapter 22

Will recognized the long metal cylinder Xanatos pulled from beneath his long, dark jacket. It was very like to the one that Obi-Wan had made. The fact that none of them were sure of its function did not help him feel any better. He had a very bad feeling about what Xanatos intended.

"The only question is, which of you is most expendable for my purposes?" His gaze flicked across them one by one, finally settling on Deanna.

"No, wait -" Geordi cried. Will froze. Xanatos raised the cylinder and stepped toward Deanna.

A soft thud and a clatter of metal on the deck turned all their heads. Obi-Wan crouched by the door, hand outstretched. The binders that had held his wrists lay open on the floor. Behind him Sherkess lay groaning.

"You -!" Xanatos stepped toward the boy, cylinder raised in front of him

A blur of movement crossed the room, straight to Obi-Wan's hand.

The boy was on his feet, holding in both hands the canister he'd built, extended. With a sudden hiss, both were ignited. A glowing blue-white cylinder of light, brilliant azure at its heart, sprang from the lens at the end of Obi-Wan's canister: about a meter long, tapering into a point. Its mate, ruby-red, extended from Xanatos's. Each hummed a deep note.

Xanatos laughed. "You dare challenge me?" He stepped sideways on the balls of his feet, circling. Obi-Wan matched him. Both kept their beams of light upraised, like swords, between them.

"You thought I would cower at your feet, and allow you to commit murder and mayhem as you wish?" the boy returned bravely.

"Oh, very good," Xanatos mocked. "And here I was beginning to believe you had acquired some intelligence. You haven't a chance against me, boy. You may as well surrender now."

"Trying to back out already? Are you so afraid to fight?"

In answer, Xanatos stepped forward swung his weapon in a wide arc toward Obi-Wan's head. Smoothly Obi-Wan stepped back; he raised his own weapon over his head, guarding his face: a classic block. The light beams met with a crackle and sizzle, but each stayed whole and solid to the other: a pair of blades, constructed of laser light. Will wondered if they would be solid to flesh. He feared so: and that they would burn, as well as cut. He hoped for Obi-Wan's sake the boy knew what he was doing. He made himself remember the tapes he'd seen of Obi-Wan fighting in the arena at Lansar.

The duel gained pace, now. Xanatos rained blows on the boy, and Obi-Wan returned them, letting the force of Xanatos's strikes propel his own blade to greater speed for attack, defense, and counter-attack. They moved a perfect, graceful dance, no movement wasted, though their economy of gesture brought blades to a hairs-breadth of striking. Xanatos tended to rely on the unexpected: swapping his blade from hand to hand, driving in one direction only to suddenly switch. Obi-Wan anticipated and smoothly countered his every move. His own style was more of power through movement: using the placement of his feet and the swing of his hips to propel his blade through wide, rapid circles.

"Incredible," Picard muttered at his side. Will had to agree. He and Picard shared a hobby of fencing, but neither of them had skill to compare with this. Even the guards had only half their attention on the prisoners, the rest focused on the dueling pair.

But Obi-Wan was tiring, Will could see that now. He had to compensate for his own shorter reach with quickness. And also the wound in his side that he had received from the first probe droid two days before was slowing him. Still he pressed on. He showed no sign of demoralization, only determination. A slow grin spread on Xanatos' face. With a flurry of quick, hard strokes he drove the boy backwards toward the wall.

"This game is pleasant, but I am pressed for time," Xanatos said as he pressed forward. "Surrender to me, and I will be merciful to you and your friends. You have no chance of defeating me, and you know it."

"The randomizer can turn a bomb-out to pure sabacc. At the nether region, pawn becomes Master."

"You think yourself better than a pawn?"

"You've played me the pawn three times now, Xanatos, and three times I've thwarted you. You forget the Force."

"So you are a pawn with delusions of grandeur."

With a suddenness that startled everyone watching, Obi-Wan spun and jumped against the wall, using his momentum to tumble impossibly high above Xanatos's head. His blade swung down as he passed, striking Xanatos a glancing blow on the shoulder. Blood trickled from it.

"I am only a Jedi," said Obi-Wan, and landed lightly on his feet.

Xanatos went cold with fury. His blade swung quick and sharp, his strokes firmer and stronger now, matching his anger. Still Obi-Wan matched him, but once more he was losing ground. His arms trembled with fatigue. "So you are, Jedi. With all the high-handed assurance of your kind that Light must triumph. That the righteous shall prevail."

"The Force is with me."

"The Force has two faces." The ruby blade cut sideways. Obi-Wan turned. Not quickly enough. The blade sliced his side, just below the wound from the droid. "And Dark is the stronger." With a quick pivot and return strike, he severed the hilt of Obi-Wan's weapon. Both halves arced away in a shower of sparks, and clattered to the floor.

Obi-Wan stood still and tall, hands at his side, Xanatos's blade at his throat. In the dim backup lighting of the cargo bay, the red sword cast a bloody pall on the boy's skin.

"Sanctimonious Jedi brat. For all you've done..."

"So kill me."

Quick as a serpent striking, Xanatos drew his blade across Obi-Wan's chest, diagonally from right to left.

"No!" Will cried, simultaneously with Wes. But the cut was shallow. Obi-Wan still stood, still defiant. His hands clenched into fists; blood stained his cut clothing. The ruby blade again rested at his throat.

"Death would be too easy for you," Xanatos hissed. Without turning, he called, "hold him, Poder!" A pale, massive humanoid rushed to do his bidding. The alien pulled the boy's arms roughly behind him and twisted them so Obi-Wan could not move. The red blade disappeared into its hilt and fell silent. Xanatos stowed it at his belt.

"You're going to wish you'd just killed me."

Swiftly Xanatos backhanded Obi-Wan across the face. Obi-Wan's head snapped to the side. The boy blinked rapidly to clear his vision. Will winced. Obi-Wan's jaw was rapidly purpling where he'd been struck. Stop provoking him! Will silently begged.

"You're going to wish I'd just killed you." Xanatos turned on his heel, walked several paces from the boy, and turned to face him once more. "And whence came this bravado? Such a difference from the boy of a few days back, who wept bitterly at my feet after I forced him to watch his friend's beating like an inhuman automaton."

Obi-Wan's expression melted from challenge to a soft, sad look. "Have you no one you would grieve for? Who would grieve for you?" he shook his head slowly. "I pity you."

Xanatos's eyes narrowed. His eyes flashed ice. "Your master took the life of the one I grieve for." He stepped close to Obi-Wan once more, and brushed the boy's face with one hand. "I have not yet taken my payment."

"And how will you pay for the tens of thousands dead for your greed, and your father's? On Telos, and elsewhere. Let the dead rest, Xanatos."

"Fools need no accounting. Vengeance is for the powerful. How I shall enjoy throwing your broken husk at Qui-Gon's feet!"

"You can't break me," said Obi-Wan with quiet confidence.

"Can't I?" Xanatos sneered. He pulled a tiny device from his pocket, and a small vial. "Do you remember the bitter drink?" He looked down at the boy, and smiled, his eyes hard. "I've developed a form of the drug that can be injected." He pressed the device to the base of Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan gasped, and squeezed shut his eyes. "It takes effect much more quickly and intensely this way."

"What's the point? I've resisted this b- b- before." Tremors shook the boy's entire body. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Qui-Gon is not here to help you, this time. Your mind will be gone long before he can reach you."

"This is madness!" Picard burst out angrily. "Whatever grievance you have against his master, there is no honor in taking your vengeance on a child!"

"Why, Captain, you are becoming as tiresome as a Lansarite."

"The slave-keepers I've met on Lansar have honor. The lowest slave has honor. You have none," Will jumped in, hoping to distract Xanatos from Obi-Wan, at least for a time.

"How unfortunate for them," Xanatos answered. "I am not so encumbered. Consider that the next time one of you poor honor-bound fools thinks to open your mouth." He turned to the massive alien holding Obi-Wan. "Break his arm, Poder." His gaze swiveled back to the captive crew, settling on Will. He smiled.

Will pressed his lips into a firm line. Wes, pale as a ghost, buried his face in Deanna's shoulder. Obi-Wan grimaced as giant Poder slowly squeezed his forearm, twisting and crushing it. In the silence they heard the bone snap. Obi-Wan's breathing quickened. He did not cry out.

"I believe we have unfinished business, Mr. LaForge."

Slowly Geordi got to his feet under the raised barrel of an alien blaster.

"Where were we? Ah, yes -" A quick flash of red was all they saw of the light sword's arc towards Deanna. Xanatos stumbled backwards as if pushed by an unseen hand. Deanna gasped. Will started to rise, to go to her, but was kicked into place by his guard.

Xanatos once more trained his ire on Obi-Wan. "Fool boy! Why do you continue to defy me? There is no hope for you, or for your friends, however you struggle -"

Deanna - he called silently.

I'm all right, Will. Don't distract me: Obi-Wan needs me here to hold on to.

Will looked anxiously from the blood welling in a thin line across Deanna's abdomen, to Obi-Wan: slumped now in the alien pirate's grasp, shuddering and gasping.

"And still, and yet, hope remains strong in you. Why?" Xanatos stepped toward the boy, slowly, considering.

There is hope yet.

What are you talking about? Will asked bitterly.

I feel it. In Obi-Wan.

"What are you hiding?" Xanatos asked the boy, suspicious. "You're waiting for something." He grabbed a fistful of Obi-Wan's short hair and pulled back his head. "You can't keep me out, little Jedi. Your shields would fall in a gentle breeze." He focused on the boy's eyes.

Obi-Wan cried out, and Deanna gasped.

Xanatos let go the boy's head with an angry shove. Obi-Wan slumped forward, boneless. "Qui-Gon comes," Xanatos growled. "You knew. All this has been a ploy, to delay me and hold my attention. You knew."

Obi-Wan raised his eyes slowly to Xanatos. Without a trace of triumph or irony, he said simply, "Check."

Xanatos clenched his fists, but his voice remained low, controlled. Dangerous. "Clever. Clever pawn. But the game is not finished. Your sacrifice will yet be in vain."

An invader ran into the room, breathless, and skidded to a halt a few meters short of Xanatos. "Boss -" he called out, then stopped abruptly when Xanatos turned his cold raging eyes upon him.

"What is it?" The leader growled.

The pirate, a human, took a step back before continuing. "Jedi, boss. Three of them, two decks above. We can't hold them."

"Three." Xanatos' voice was flat, emotionless. "How did they come so far, without my knowing?"

"We - we tried to contact you -"

"They're here for the boy," called the pirate engineer from behind the console. "They've come for their own. Leave him, and let's get out of here!"

"Don't be a fool. The Jedi brat is leverage. Poder! Terden! Take both boys; you're to come with me. Devender! You're in charge. Gather everyone in the area and hold the Jedi here."

"We can't hold against three Jedi!" The alien protested.

"Don't fight them. Use the hostages. The Jedi will not proceed if doing so will endanger innocent lives. When we're clear of the ship I'll signal you, and you can leave. The Jedi will ignore you, and come after me and the boys."

Devender looked for a moment like it might protest, but a look at Xanatos changed its mind. Evidently its fear of its leader won out. It nodded and drew its weapon.

Xanatos walked to where Obi-Wan was held immobile by the massive arms of the pale alien; Wesley was held by its twin.

"You won't escape Qui-Gon and Tomas this time," Obi-Wan challenged him.

"Won't I?" Xanatos sneered. "Let's go," the man ordered. His two minions each lifted a boy over an immense shoulder, and followed him from the room through the doors at the far end.

Will's heart sank. Even with help on the way, he feared he would never see either boy again.

"How will I tell Beverly?" Picard groaned.

"And the Jedi that are coming," Will added.

"It's not over yet," Deanna told them. "That boy just sacrificed himself to save my life. We're getting him back. We're getting them both back."

"How?" Geordi asked. He had been dropped to the floor, finally, in front of them - wrists once more shackled together. "I'm fresh out of plans. The last one was a disaster, anyway."

"We wait. After what we just saw, I'm betting on the Jedi," she answered.


	23. Chapter 23

They hadn't long to wait.

"Offworld pirates." A deep, male voice echoed throughout the engine room. "You are surrounded. Leave the prisoners and proceed peacefully to your ships, and you will not be harmed."

Devender moved to grab Deanna by the hair. She ducked at the last moment, and kicked the invader hard in the midsection. Then all hell broke loose. Three shapes whizzed through the air from the balcony, knocking into several of the guards. Phaser fire erupted from all sides of the room, taking out a number of invaders before they knew what was happening. Picard backed against the wall and kicked another guard's gun from her hands. Will tripped one by scissoring its legs from under it. Geordi head-butted another.

By that time the three missiles had resolved into two men and a young teen. Each carried a laser blade that snapped into existence as soon as they settled to their feet: green, violet, and gold. With quick and deadly efficiency they set about disarming the pirates, deflecting laser fire with their blades to protect themselves and the prisoners. Will watched, unbelieving, as the red-haired teen somersaulted from standing over the head of one of the pirates, to land among the imprisoned officers. She spun in a wide half circle, bringing down her laser to cut the guard's weapon in half, taking some fingers with it. He dropped to his knees, gibbering.

The opposing blaster fire slowed as more of their enemies fell or ran away. The girl turned urgently to the officers. "You must be the Captain," she said to Picard. "I can cut your hands free."

"Please," he answered, turning his back to expose the bindings.

"I'm Ki-Erin," she told them as she swept her golden blade between Picard's hands, cutting the chain that bound them. "Worf told us that Obi-Wan would be with you."

"He's your friend?" Picard asked as she severed the bindings between his wrists.

"And Qui-Gon's Padawan. His apprentice. Where is he?"

"Xanatos took him," Will told her, heart heavy. Deanna gave him a look that said clearly, It's not your fault.

Ki-Erin's face was grave. She turned Deanna to cut her bindings. "How long ago?"

"About five minutes," Picard answered. "Xanatos took one of our own boys as well."

The two adult Jedi arrived in time to hear this last. They were both tall, well-built men of about fifty: One with dark hair, skin, and eyes; the other light-skinned, blond and blue-eyed. With a shock Will realized he recognized them both. The first man had been at the Council meeting at Lansar, with the woman and Viden. The second he had seen in wanted ads posted all over the city: for his connection with the outbreak of fighting at Starways. His connection with Obi-Wan.

"Where?" asked the second, blond man.

"I'm not certain," Picard answered. "Somewhere he can exit the ship. Most likely the cargo shuttle bay, since that's nearest."

"Tahl might be able to help," the blond man told the other. The dark one nodded.

"If you wait about five minutes," Geordi told them, not pausing in his work, "I'll have sensors and turbolifts running again. We can pinpoint his location, and get to him much more quickly than by walking. In the meantime, I can have the computer close off ladderways and passages throughout that area to slow them down. The farthest they could have gotten at this point is half way there."

The two men exchanged glances.

"Then we will wait," the blond man agreed, "and proceed with your help."

"You've already given us more help than we can ever repay," Picard answered.

"I am Tomas Ellmore," the dark man introduced himself. He bowed his head in greeting. Picard bowed in return. "My friend is Qui-Gon Jinn. We're here to find Qui-Gon's Padawan, to rescue him from Xanatos; and to take Xanatos into custody, to bring him before the Jedi Council for justice."

By this time, the girl had cut Will's bindings. When she finished, she held him still, examining his wound.

"I'll find an emergency medical kit," Deanna said, her expression anxious, looking at Will.

"I have one," Ki-Erin told her. "Master Qui-Gon, this wound is beyond my skill."

Qui-Gon moved to the girl's side, eyes on Will's arm. "We shall use the time to tend it. If that is acceptable, Captain?"

"Your help would be most appreciated," Picard answered, looking concerned himself when he saw Will's face. Will hadn't the energy to complain. Deanna helped to lower him into a chair at his side.

"You'll help me, Ki-Erin?" Qui-Gon asked the girl.

The girl looked to Tomas, who nodded. "I will contact Tahl, and inform the Captain of what we've seen thus far. Keep your senses open, my Padawan; this area is still vulnerable to attack."

"I will, Master."

Ki-Erin turned back to Will, who was feeling sick and weak, now that they had reached a moment of safety. His arm throbbed painfully. He tried to ignore the tall Jedi prodding his wound - though the man's hands were gentle, the touch was almost too much to be borne. Instead he watched the girl pull a small package from a leather case on her belt; she unrolled it to reveal a kit of salve and bandages. She handed a small tool to Qui-Gon, who used it to cut the bandages from his arm. Behind him Deanna held and rubbed his shoulders, her simple presence a comfort.

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn," the Jedi said quietly.

"Commander Will Riker," Will responded.

With one hand Qui-Gon took hold of Will's wrist, positioning his wounded arm slightly forward of his body. The other he laid upon Will's chest. "Clear your mind," he directed. "Focus on your breathing. Breathe slow and deep. Now in, now out."

Will was startled at first by this odd procedure, but he quickly fell into the routine Deanna had taught him so long ago. Once more he found the pain grow more bearable with his mind calm and clear. Then he felt a new sensation: a warmth flowing through his entire body - though most strongly through his arm - like a current, ebbing and flowing like a tide. With the warmth, his pain eased.

"Bacta, now," he heard the man say, and realized the girl was handing over the salve. He felt like he was floating: a peaceful sensation. He knew he was injured and in pain, but it didn't bother him so much. A memory surfaced: Obi-Wan, putting a hand on his chest while he clung to the ladder after having been shot. Obi-Wan, too, had eased him, though not so thoroughly.

"What did you do to me?" he asked, quietly.

"I did not do to you, so much as helped the Force to flow more strongly through you. To promote healing, and to strengthen you, and to ease the pain. More bacta, Ki-Erin."

Will rested, and did not so much think as have thoughts come to him. "The boy, your -"

"My Padawan. My student."

"When I took him from Xanatos's apartment, I thought I was rescuing him. But you were already there."

Qui-Gon Jinn was silent a moment, and Will feared he had angered the man. But when he spoke, his voice was as serene as ever.

"The will of the Force is not always easy to discern, Will Riker. But there is purpose in such happenings. We were meant to find your ship, and to help you against Xanatos. I'll need the entire bandage, Ki-Erin."

Riker found this attitude difficult to believe. "But Xanatos may yet escape. He might kill both boys."

"Of course these are possibilities. Though I have no intention of allowing either to happen." The Jedi's voice grew firm, almost hard as he spoke.

"But you're saying I was meant to get this wound, that there was purpose in the boys being captured, hurt..."

"Perhaps. But you're taking my words too liberally. I only said it was the will of the Force that we find you, and help you. It is our own choices that determine what happens in this world, that make the future the present."

"Always in motion, is the future." Ki-Erin interjected. Qui-Gon smiled at her, then gently smoothed the bandage, a strip of pliable, almost rubbery material, over Will's wound, tucking corners so it fit well. Ki-Erin handed him a roll of what looked like tape, which he wound around bandage and arm with her help to hold the bandage firmly in place.

"I hurt the boy." Riker was surprised at himself for this admission, but somehow he needed to say it, now, to this man. Deanna's hands tightened on his shoulders. He drew strength from her presence. "Xanatos convinced us that the boy had betrayed us. I was angry. He pushed me out of the way of the first probe droid. I pushed him back, straight into its fire." Will paused, feeling overwhelmed by guilt. "I should have realized that he was trying to help. And at other times - when he begged for understanding, for compassion, I gave him only my anger."

"Anger is a powerful feeling," Qui-Gon said softly, not stopping the quick winding of tape around Will's wound. "As Jedi, we are taught that it is a destructive feeling. It blinds us, makes us reckless. We have a saying: Strength over fear. Peace over anger. Honor over hate."

"If I had only -"

"We have another saying," Qui-Gon interrupted smoothly. "We are not saints, but seekers."

Will sighed. "No one is perfect."

"And more: it is our duty to learn from our mistakes, and to go on with duty, to keep trying. Put your guilt behind you, Commander. Let it go. Remember your errors, but don't cling to them." At this, Qui-Gon finished winding tape around the bandage. Again he took Will's wrist, and placed his other hand upon his chest. "This time, when you breathe in, gather all your anger and your guilt to you. Accept it as your own. When you breathe out, let it go. Now. Breathe in."

Will did as he was told, accepting the whole, painful truth of his actions, then relaxing his mind, letting determination replace his guilt. Qui-Gon's words were not unlike what he'd heard from the Betazoid. On the other hand, the Betazed did not practice arts of war, of fighting, and the Jedi did. A society of peaceful warriors? Will mentally shook his head. He felt stronger and more whole than he had since before he was wounded. Whatever the Jedi might be, he instinctively trusted them.

When he opened his eyes again, Will saw Worf and Beverly Crusher coming down from the balcony towards them. The doctor took the stairs two and three at a time, soon leaving the Klingon behind.

"Jean-Luc -" she called to the Captain.

"Xanatos took him, Beverly, and Obi-Wan - Ben - as well. They're on their way to the cargo shuttlebay." He paused, and took her hand. "We'll leave as soon as Geordi -"

"Sensors up, Captain. Obi-Wan and Wesley are on Deck thirty-seven, in a sealed corridor, with three invaders, one of them human."

"That would be Xanatos."

"Your blast doors won't hold him long," said Qui-Gon.

At that moment Worf reached them, and Data arrived as well from the door behind Will. Worf handed Picard a phaser rifle; he had three more slung on his back. "I've placed a group of crewmembers here to protect the engineering team," he said. "Another group can help us to hunt invaders."

"Good work, Mr. Worf. As soon as Geordi -"

"Turbolifts now functional, Captain. I suggest you take them to deck thirty-eight, and cut Xanatos off before he reaches the shuttle bay. He's already gotten through to the ladderway on deck thirty-nine."

"Thank you, Mr. LaForge. Mr. Worf, gather your team. Mr. Data, you will stay here. Everyone else with me."

Deanna took a phaser rifle from Worf, and Riker stood to do the same.

"Stay here, Number One. You're not in any condition -"

"I'm coming," said Will. "I feel fine."

Picard frowned at him, but did not object. He led the way to the turbolift. With him went Dr. Crusher, Will, Deanna, and the three Jedi. When all were crowded inside, he gave the command to speed them on their way.

"You feel fine, Commander?" Beverly asked Will. "You look like hell."

"He's being stubborn," Deanna grimaced.

"Thank you so much for your kind assessment of my mental and physical condition."

"When we reach the shuttle bay," Picard cut in, irritated, "we'll need to confirm Xanatos's position. We'll want to cut him off from the boys if at all possible."

"Leave that to us, Captain," rumbled Tomas in his deep voice.

The turbolift slid to a stop. They stepped out into the wide hangar of the shuttle bay. It looked different without the crowd of Enterprise crew gathered in the center of the room under enemy guns. The bay was more empty, as well, with many of the alien ships and invaders now gone. Will felt a pang of dread. Were they too late?

"They're coming," Qui-Gon said grimly. Without another word the three Jedi ran four steps and jumped. Will and the others watched, astonished. The three jumped ten meters, landing in the maintenance scaffolding far above. From there they separated, running to positions flanking the forward door.


	24. Chapter 24

Carried through the darkened corridors on the shoulder of an Imbat, head dangling, mind and body trembling and growing steadily more disoriented with the effects of the drug Xanatos had given him, Obi-Wan hoped his situation could not possibly get much worse than this. He hoped. What he feared, every other jarring step, was that the worst had only just begun. Something about the drug was different this time; or perhaps it was he that was different. He could feel a mighty battle beginning, deep within his cells.

He told himself it was good that his body was rejecting the drug. Told himself that Qui-Gon was close behind, and soon to follow. Told himself these things, but somehow he knew this trial was just beginning.

They stopped at yet another blast door. Halfway through their trek to the shuttle bay, all blast doors in their path had slid closed and sealed. Xanatos cursed with every delay. It took him several minutes to cut each door with his lightsaber. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, blessed the foresight of whomever had thought of this tactic. Geordi, probably.

"Obi-Wan, are you okay?" Wesley whispered to him. For once the two boys were held close together, their guards standing side by side. Then they were off again, through another door and down a ladderway. Obi-Wan's head pounded with every jarring movement.

They reached the top, and Obi-Wan's heart sank. They were surrounded by Offworld flunkies, who had been trapped behind the closed shuttle bay doors on their way to their ships. Xanatos already had them gathered in a circle and was giving orders.

"Set the charges to go off in four minutes exactly," the dark Jedi told them. "I will rejoin you when the doors are open." Then he led the two Imbats with their captives around the corner. Stopping them, he cut a large hole into the shuttle bay. "You will be hidden from sight when you step through. Find a place of cover toward my personal ship where you can stow the prisoners and guard them, yet still have a good view of the hangar floor. One of the alcoves to the left should do well. Cut down any opposition from behind. Do this and you will be handsomely rewarded."

The two Imbats grunted and ducked through the newly carved hole. Aggression was the principle they understood best. Obi-Wan felt a small measure of hope. If Xanatos was leaving them, the situation was become desperate indeed. But he also had a plan, of that Obi-Wan was certain.

From behind a stack of storage canisters, the Imbats broke into a run across open deck. Obi-Wan reached out as best he could, his Force-sensitivity scrambled by the drug. He sensed Qui-Gon's presence, engaged with Xanatos, and another that must be Tomas. But the one with whom he connected was Ki-Erin. He felt her questing mind catch on to his thoughts. Then she and her master were running toward them.

Obi-Wan was thrown to the floor in a small alcove, almost on top of Wesley. He cried out when his scorched flesh scraped the deck. Then Wesley pulled him up from the floor, bound hands encircling him, careful of his wounds.

"Damn. This isn't good, Obi-Wan. I feel like a pig trussed for slaughter."

"Not over... yet."

"What's wrong? You're so cold!"

"Oh, no," Obi-Wan groaned. He recognized the sensation building inside him. He had felt it once before. Xanatos was using him, using the drug to draw on vast quantities of the Force through Obi-Wan's body. Obi-Wan felt the dark Force moving through him. But something was different this time. Last time, Qui-Gon had helped Obi-Wan to foil Xanatos by changing the preference of the drug from the Dark Side to the Light.

Now he had both within him. The two substances repelled each other, warring within his very cells. He felt he must literally explode with the conflict between them.

Obi-Wan gasped and leaned into Wesley. He focused on letting go the pain, on controlling his body's reactions. But the battle within him escalated by the second. He could not control it. The dark Force ripped through him. He screamed.

-

"Take cover behind the shuttles and debris," Picard ordered. "Riker and Troi to the right. Work your way toward the doors. We need to cut them off from the exit."

They split up. Just as they were hidden, the doors burst open with the force of explosives. Seven or eight invaders leaped out, weapons firing. Xanatos must have picked up some followers outside the shuttle bay. Not seeing the boys in the small crowd, Will and Deanna fired at the pirates, taking several down.

Then Xanatos appeared. He ran to one side, his ruby blade ignited, deflecting all the phaser blasts they sent his way. The Jedi dropped from the catwalks above, surrounding him. Qui-Gon's blade flashed green; he engaged the pirate leader in a cascade of sparks. Tomas and Ki-Erin disarmed the last three guards, then looked around. Will, too, wondered: where were the two boys?

Ki-Erin glimpsed them first. Somehow a hole had been cut in the wall behind them, to admit the two huge guards carrying Obi-Wan and Wes. In frustration Will watched them dump the boys in an alcove. Taking cover behind a stack of storage tanks, they hunkered down to add to the fray.

Slapping his communicator, Will called, "Captain, behind you!" He saw Picard and the doctor turn and dive for cover. Phasers set to stun, they tried to take down the guards. It was no use: the huge aliens' constitution was too tough for a stun setting to do more than irritate them. And Dr. Crusher and Picard could not safely return fire at a higher setting for fear of hitting one of the boys.

Tomas and Ki-Erin, however, were already on their way. Tomas extended one hand: a guard's weapon was wrenched from his grip, and flew towards the two Jedi. Disarmed and panicked, he ran for one of the pirate ships. The other guard fired frantically, but swinging her blade in a wide arc, Ki-Erin deflected the blasts; the second ricocheted directly and caught the guard full in the chest. He crumpled to the ground. Someone screamed.

Sudden blue fire erupted from behind the two Jedi. It caught them each through the chest and flung them to the wall. Following the stream of blue lightning back to its source, Will saw Xanatos, standing in the midst of the cargo bay, laughing wildly. Lightning cascaded from his fingers. It held Qui-Gon pinned to the floor, writhing, the others pinned to the wall.

"The source!" Deanna yelled. "It's coming from Obi-Wan! I can feel him now - he's in terrible pain!"

Looking where Deanna pointed, Will saw, indeed, a fuzzy line of blue flowing to Xanatos from Obi-Wan. Wesley held his young friend clasped in his arms, but Obi-Wan was convulsing madly, and Wes could hardly hold him. Will felt helpless, watching. Not knowing what else to do, he leveled his phaser at Xanatos, pushed it to the highest setting, and fired.

The blast dissipated around Xanatos, gathered, and rebounded. Will ducked behind the shuttle shielding them, pulling Deanna with him. The shuttle rocked with the force of the returned fire.

"Don't do that again," she told him.

"We've got to do something," Will protested. He ducked back around the shuttle once more, and ran for the alcove.

That's when he saw something speed from the catwalks above straight into Xanatos with the force of an incoming torpedo. Energy exploded around him. The attacker was revealed: another Jedi: the woman from the Council meeting on Lansar.

Qui-Gon pushed shakily to his feet. "Tahl!" he called, panicked. The energy Xanatos was emitting had enveloped him and his attacker both.

-

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!" Slowly, through the agony, the cold fire that consumed him, Obi-Wan became aware that Wesley was shaking him and calling his name, in a panic.

Then something else changed. Xanatos was losing hold of him.

Struggling for focus, Obi-Wan sat up with Wesley's help, leaning on his friend for support. He looked around. Xanatos was locked in struggle with a fiery spirit that could only be Tahl. She held his arms and neck and clung to him from behind, while a remnant of the power that Xanatos had stolen played through them both, painfully. Still Tahl held fast, grimly tightening her grip on his throat, and Xanatos struggled, too distracted to draw on the Dark Force through Obi-Wan.

Drawing on the Force for himself, Obi-Wan unlocked the binders holding Wesley's wrists. He heard them clatter to the floor. Determined to end Xanatos, now and forever, Obi-Wan raised his hand and drew on the vast power unlocked within him. Drew on it, and channeled it streaming into Xanatos. Obi-Wan felt Xanatos dying. He wanted him dead.

-

The flow from Obi-Wan slowed. It changed, becoming thicker, somehow harder, more substantial. Running toward the boy, Will saw him lean against Wesley, the older boy supporting him. Obi-Wan's arm was raised, pointing at Xanatos. He looked exhausted, but determined.

The flowing lightning around Xanatos slowed and stopped. Instead, now, Xanatos looked to be lit from within. His skin crackled. His limbs convulsed. He floated a half meter into the air.

"No, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon cried. He staggered forward.

-

Qui-Gon's voice pierced the young Padawan's single-minded determination. He remembered his master. He remembered the code. He must not kill in anger, especially not with the Force. Drawing a single, shuddering breath, he let go the Force. Dark and Light, it churned within him and around him. On which side had he drawn? He had thought the Light, but now he was not so certain. His short-lived control vanished.

Xanatos dropped to the deck. He rolled to his feet, laser sword once more in hand, looking shaken but deadly. He raised one arm toward Obi-Wan. And Xanatos touched him once more.

No! Never again!

With all his strength Obi-Wan pushed the dark Jedi back, denying him. It was not enough.

Yet again Xanatos drew on the Dark Force through him. This time Obi-Wan felt the war within him rage still fiercer, stronger. He felt Xanatos will the Dark Force to consume Obi-Wan, to take his life.

-

With a cry Qui-Gon threw himself upon the enemy. His green blade cut once, slashing the ruby blade at the hilt. Twice, through the man's center.

Xanatos collapsed to the deck, laughing strangely. Qui-Gon stood over him, his posture one of grief.

"You've killed me, Master," he mocked. "Carry the knowledge of your failure to the end of your days. Two of your Padawans die today." His head lolled back, eyes lifeless.

Obi-Wan curled upon himself and screamed.

Will sank to the alcove deck beside Wesley. Wes looked up at him, eyes frightened, pleading. With his good arm, Will pulled Obi-Wan into his lap, leaning him back against his chest. The boy shivered violently. His eyes were half-closed, his hair and clothing sticky with sweat. Will put his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead: the boy's skin was cold, but beneath the surface was a tense heat, steadily growing. "Wake up, Obi-Wan," Will told the boy. He felt a frightened urgency, seeing him so limp and weak. "Your teacher is here, alive."

Suddenly the world went mad. Streamers of pale energy flung tendrils outward from Obi-Wan's body. Everything they touched was singed, or exploded, or flew three meters through the air.

"Merciful goddess," Will heard Deanna exclaim beside him. They ducked as a storage canister soared towards their heads.

-

Again it was a voice that called him back. This time it was Qui-Gon's voice, calling his name. Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Will held him tight against his chest.

Qui-Gon dropped to his knees and seized his Padawan by his upper arms. "Obi-Wan! You must take control."

"I can't," whispered Obi-Wan. He felt he was burning in the heart of a forge. How could he control such power?

"You must. You must, Padawan."

Obi-Wan stared at his master's determined, anxious face. His body shook with the effort of keeping his mind whole and sane. Around him wild energy raged, with his body as its focus. "Help me, Master," he croaked.

"I'm here Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice and presence touched Obi-Wan's fevered consciousness like gentle rain, or a warm sea breeze. "I will help you. The first steps: join with me. As the sun sinks low, the swallow finds her rest..."

The words of the simple nursery meditation came instantly to Obi-Wan's mind: a thousand times he'd heard it, and practiced it, with his Jedi caretakers when he was a toddling infant. "She tucks her h-head... be- beneath.. her wing... the w- west wind... sings h-her lullaby," he recited as carefully as he could, focusing on the words. He shut tight his eyes. Every moment of focus was a strain, an eternity of struggle. Even so, the ancient words comforted him; brought him memories of simple days and nights filled with the warmth and care of friends, of gentle arms holding him, of love given unconditionally.

Perhaps to bring those memories closer, Qui-Gon gathered him to his chest like a child, one wide hand cupping his head, the other upon his back. Like a frightened infant Obi-Wan clutched his master's arm.

"In the gathering night the rose folds tight his buds," Qui-Gon continued, slow and patient, a mountain for an anchor.

Deep within his cells a million glowing embers burned ever brighter. Obi-Wan pressed on, regardless: the next response. What was it? He clung to memory... "He.. he c-closes.. all his eyes.. and.. and stretches d- deep his t-toes... for he knows -" A sudden shaft, twined light and dark, pierced his mind. He cried out. Then he collapsed against Qui-Gon, shaking, crying: "I'm sorry, I-"

"Hush, lad. Hush, my brave one. Focus, now. You can do this. Hold fast to me." Again Obi-Wan felt the brush of Qui-Gon's presence, solid and patient and real as a stone. With all his strength he reached out his mind and clung fast. Qui-Gon's strength twined around him, shielding him and calming the sea of flame that raged through him. "For he knows -" Qui-Gon prompted, gently massaging the clenched muscles of his back.

"He knows... he knows that sleep must come." Obi-Wan gasped, as though new-come to fresh and wholesome air beyond a realm of ash and cinders.

"The grasses bend their weary backs..."

"Letting d-down... their burdens... for the night."

"And children turn their weary minds..."

"To find the dreamland... waiting near." With every recitation Obi-Wan felt calm seeping into his mind and body. He let it grow, let it pool, drawing down the raging flame to stillness.


	25. Chapter 25

"And hearth and treelimb, earth and sea..." Qui-Gon paused, waiting. His Padawan was still, at last, in his arms; breathing gently. Not asleep, but deep in trance. He sighed with relief, then finished the final response himself, as was traditional: "contribute to the song: that all of life, and all of joy, be bound up in this harmony."

"Stars and galaxies," Tomas swore quietly. The Jedi and the four Enterprise officers were gathered around them now, looks of awe and frightened wonder on all their faces.

"The power is stilled but not dispersed," said Tahl.

Ki-Erin spoke up, leaning against her master as though for comfort. "Have you more of the inhibitor drug we found in Xanatos's lab, Qui-Gon?"

"I do, but I feel it would not be wise to use it: I don't think Obi-Wan's body can handle any further toxins. What we need is to remove the drugs entirely from his system."

At this Dr. Crusher spoke; she stood near to Qui-Gon, now clutching her young son close to her. "If the problem is one of foreign substances, we can remove them with a transport biofilter. I'll need to know which substances in particular are problematic -"

"We have samples," Tomas told her.

"Then the procedure should be a straightforward one," said the doctor. "It will take some time, of course - a few hours to make certain we won't be leaving any toxic byproducts or interactive effects. In addition we'll need to confirm with Geordi that the medical and transporter systems are stable."

"I'll tell him to make those systems first priority," Picard said firmly.

"Thank you," said Qui-Gon, feeling a measure of relief. His instincts told him to trust these people. Gently he scooped his Padawan into his arms and stood, careful not to disturb the boy's deep trance. Obi-Wan was hot and dry to the touch, burning like a furnace. Even with the power stilled, his spirit burned too brightly for his body and mind to endure for long. Whatever could be done, must be done quickly. Qui-Gon refused to think of the possibility of failure. He refused to let Xanatos's last words become truth. But he was anxious for the boy, more anxious than he wished to admit.

Dr. Crusher came to them with an instrument she had pulled from her pocket upraised; she ran it slowly a few inches above Obi-Wan's body, watching it carefully: a scanning device of some sort. "He has a high fever," she said. "Too high. And his mental functioning has stilled almost completely."

"He's in a trance," Qui-Gon explained. "But the fever is indeed dangerous."

"Will an antipyretic do more help or harm, do you think?" she asked.

He reflected carefully. "Help, I would say. His body, at least, needs to be cooled. The fever is doing nothing to impair the drugs' effect."

Smoothly the doctor pulled a small cylinder from a pocket in her uniform, which she pressed to the boy's neck. Within minutes his temperature had dropped several degrees.

Picard returned at that point; he had withdrawn several meters to talk with his other officers. "Lieutenant Commander LaForge assures me he will have the Sick Bay functions you need up and running within twenty minutes. Number One, you're to accompany them. I don't want to see you again until your arm has been tended." Qui-Gon saw Will Riker bristle at this statement, but the man did not object.

"This way," Dr. Crusher told him. She and Wesley led the way to the turbolift doors through which they had arrived.

"We will find you when the ship is secure," Tahl called to him. "May the Force be with you both."

-

Will Riker lay flat on the biobed, the tattered remnants of his borrowed shirt removed. On the bed beside him Obi-Wan lay quietly sleeping, his teacher at his side. Biofiltration had successfully removed all the toxins in the boy's system. The burns and long cut on his chest had been relatively easy to repair. Even the broken arm was soon fused whole. Though it would be several days before he returned to normal, the doctor told them - the high fever and the drugs had caused extensive low-level damage internally - he was now out of danger.

Sick Bay was bustling with cases of laser burns and other remnants of the battle, but Dr. Crusher had insisted Will should be her next case, and let the other doctors tend to the remaining patients. No one else, she said, had as extensive internal and external damage to be tended. So Will waited, trying to be patient, as she examined the clamshell displays. It was just as well he got to be next, he reflected. He hated Sick Bay.

"Doctor Singh, come look at this!" Beverly called. "Have you ever seen anything like it?" she asked when the man arrived. He shook his head slowly, evidently as fascinated as she, then returned, reluctantly, to his patient.

"Will, what is this stuff under your bandage? It's regenerating your tissues at an astonishing rate!"

"Ask Master Jinn," said Riker. "He put it there."

Apparently Qui-Gon heard them, for he rose from his student's bedside to join them. "It's called Bacta," he explained. "A living agent that actively aids in healing damaged tissues. I have more." He pulled a small case from his belt, identical to the one Ki-Erin had used, and drew from it a small tube. "Here. He'll be needing a second application in about two hours."

Dr. Crusher took the tube. "It's alive," she said, looking to him for confirmation.

"Yes, doctor."

"Do you mind if I analyze it, and try to replicate it?"

"Use it as you judge fit. We have more with us, but not much." So saying, he returned to Obi-Wan's bedside.

"Does this mean you'll stop poking at me for a while?"

"You still have several fractured ribs, and some internal bleeding. I promise I'll be quick, so don't whine at me."

"Since when have I ever whined at you?"

"Every time you come to Sick Bay as a patient."

Will gave a long-suffering sigh.

-

Several hours, a long nap, and another Bacta application later, Will woke from a second nap to find himself in a quieter Sick Bay. His and Obi-Wan's beds had been cordoned off with a movable wall to give them a quiet space to rest; the bustle of a few hours earlier was gone. Will turned his head, and saw that Obi-Wan was awake, and speaking with Qui-Gon. The man sat on the edge of his bed at his side, leaning over him and speaking gently.

"You're strong, you're brave, and very clever, Obi-Wan; but in the end you're still just a boy. You mustn't blame yourself. You are not ready for the burden of your own mission."

"I'll say. I've made such a mess of things."

"Your best is the most you can ever give, my Padawan, and it is always worth the effort. But come to that, I don't see that you've done so badly."

The boy laughed softly. "I'm just glad you're here. You don't know how often I've wished you'd just come and take over for me, and tell me what to do. I hope you don't mind if I stick to you like glue for a while."

"Just as well, since I intend to not let you out of my sight for a time, and I'd hate to seem overprotective."

Will closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He was glad for the boy; glad he was back in the custody of his guardian. He just wished it didn't hurt so much to think of him, of what his young friend had been through for their sakes. Will breathed deeply and tried not to think.

-

One day later, released from Sick Bay, Will walked the corridor to the observation deck, accompanied by Deanna on one side, Wes and Beverly Crusher on the other. Obi-Wan had already been released to Qui-Gon's care when he finally awoke; Will had not seen the boy since he'd overheard his conversation with Qui-Gon. Captain Picard had permitted him to return to duty only that morning.

"The halls look almost normal again," the doctor commented.

"The repairs to the warp drive are nearly finished," Wes said. "I've been helping in engineering while you were in Sick Bay," he explained to Will.

"The crew are ready to go home," said Deanna. "Even with the dangers of the wormhole ahead of us."

"And whatever welcoming party the Romulans may have waiting for us?" Will asked dourly.

"I think they're trying to avoid worrying about that," she admitted. Are you alright, Will?

Will shrugged. He really didn't want to discuss his own feelings, right then.

They entered the wide lounge, bordered on three sides by windows on to the star fields. Silhouetted against one of the port windows, someone stood looking out, wearing a brown floor-length robe with the hood drawn up. Someone small.

"Ki-Erin?" Will called uncertainly.

The figure turned to face them, but they could see nothing under the deep hood. Two young, pale hands went to the hood; lowered it.

"No, just me." It was Obi-Wan. "How's your arm?" the boy asked Will, tentatively. He folded his hands within his voluminous sleeves, crossing his chest with his arms.

"Dr. Crusher says it's nearly mended." Will twisted his arm gently, to show the healing.

"That medicinal your people put on it worked wonders," Beverly added.

"Bacta," the boy nodded. "A staple of the Republic."

"And how are you doing?" Will asked, feeling somewhat shy himself. Deanna looked at him knowingly, then went to sit at the table nearby, facing them but far enough away to be withdrawn from the conversational circle. Will gave a mental shrug.

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan answered. "All my wounds were superficial, except for my arm and the drugs in my body. And Dr. Crusher took care of those problems." He smiled at her.

She smiled back. "And glad to help."

"You look so different in those clothes," Wesley said.

"Tahl and Qui-Gon brought my things from the Temple," Obi-Wan answered, a little embarrassed for some reason. "I feel a little different, now, wearing them. But it's a good feeling. A little like going home."

"You'll be glad to go home," Dr. Crusher guessed.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes. I miss my friends and teachers."

"And your parents?"

"I don't know my parents very well. They gave me into the care of the Temple when I was an infant. I visit them every year or so." He shrugged. "It's funny. A year ago I wanted nothing more than to leave the Jedi Temple; to have adventures. I lived all my life in those quiet halls. Now I miss the peace of being home. Life is gentler, at the Temple."

"It must have been strange, growing up in a religious house, away from your parents."

Obi-Wan grinned. "It can't be any stranger than growing up on a starship," he answered.

"No, I guess not," Wes laughed. He looked at the table. "Coming?" he asked over his shoulder as he went to take a seat.

"In a moment," Obi-Wan answered, but he didn't follow Wes or his mother. Instead he looked to Riker, catching and holding his gaze, his own blue eyes mournful.

They stared at each other a moment. Then, smiling softly, Will asked, "is it permitted to hug a Jedi?"

Obi-Wan laughed, and threw his arms around Will's middle. Will held the boy's shoulders. He found he was a little sad, still. He would miss this child. But it was better this way. Looking toward the table in the center of the room, where the Enterprise officers and guests now gathered, talking, he saw Deanna smiling at them, and Qui-Gon as well. The tall man nodded to him, seeing his gaze, and returned to his conversation with Picard and Worf.

Damn, empaths could be unsettling.

-

Conversation over the past few days had been lively, informative, and ultimately unsatisfying. Enterprise already sped toward the wormhole at warp six. In only an hour, if the wormhole remained stable, they would be on their way. They could not delay for fear of losing their only known route home. For the crew was certain, now: somehow they had stumbled on another galaxy.

Explorers that they were, they longed to stay. Every moment they spoke with the Jedi, every examination of the few pirate ships that had been left behind, uncovered more questions than answers. But the Jedi, too, had unfinished business. In the time since Xanatos had been defeated Enterprise and the Jedi had worked together to chase the last of the Offworld pirates from the system. Now the Jedi were tasked with the mission of helping to bring stability to this world, to prepare it to join their Republic. It would not be an easy task: Lansar was composed of many disparate tribes, with authority decentralized and scattered.

"You never got to show me your version of chess," Wesley complained to Obi-Wan, as the boy took a seat beside him.

"It's called dejarik, and it's an ancient game. Jedi invented it long ago."

"Are you considered a good player?" Will asked.

"Good for my age. I like to play with my friend Garen. Dejarik is played on a circular board, not a square one, but many of the pieces have similar rules of movement."

"We'll have to return here so you can have time to teach us," Picard smiled. "I enjoy a good game of chess myself. But now," he said, standing and raising his voice to be heard throughout the room, "I fear we must say farewell to our new friends. We approach the wormhole. Within the hour we must brave it and return to our own galaxy." Silence fell, and everyone turned their attention to Picard. "We can never thank you enough for all your help." Around the edges of the room, Guinan and her helpers passed glasses to the gathered crew and guests. "I propose a toast," said Picard, and raised his glass. "To friendship. To peace. To the free exchange of ideas and news. I fervently hope we may see you all again."

Qui-Gon stood as well. "We, too, hope to meet again. All is possible in the Force. We thank you for your help, for your kindness and your generosity. May the Force be with you all."

"Cheers," the Starfleet officers answered. The Jedi followed their lead. Then all drained their glasses.

-

An hour later the Jedi crowded the control cabin of their own small ship. They watched Enterprise, tiny against the backdrop of the natural hyperspace passage, move forward, watched it swallowed up in swirling energy.

Obi-Wan, in particular, hoped his friends would make it safely home. They had taken him from a place of anger, of cruelty, and gifted him with kindness. He owed them much.

Obi-Wan reached out to the Force. In its gentle flow he felt new certainty: Enterprise would reach her home. Even, he thought, he might see his friends again. He smiled. The universe was a vast place. Yet not so vast, perhaps, as some might think.


End file.
